All the King's Horses
by Dawnlight-6
Summary: All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again. Set six years after the events of Stars. The return of an old enemy brings disaster of an unexpected kind.
1. Chapter 1

Hello to everyone! At last, after a few crazy months, I am back with a new story. This is an idea that has been in my head for a long time, but I must warn all of you now there isn't much more than this opening written, and the project will probably take me a while to complete. I hope you are all prepared to be patient :)

No stories come from nowhere, and this story in particular has been influenced by two earlier works in the fandom. One is FlorLola's gorgeously angsty "Shattered Hearts" (which I spent an entire day reading at work several months ago when I was supposed to be, um, working) and the other is a much older fic from 1997 called "Living and Dying" by Jackie Chiang. I don't want to say much more; I have very definite ideas on where I am going with this and don't want to spoil the fun.

Enjoy, and I apologise for the brevity.

* * *

**ALL THE KING'S HORSES**

by Dawnlight-6

* * *

**Chapter One**

_Tokyo, June 16, 1999_

In the darkness of the night on the hill, fire erupted from the girl's fingertips like undying hate, searing through the air hot and dry as sin. The soft caresses of the sea-laden breeze could only flee before such a burning, leaving behind an atmosphere stark and dead as that of a poisoned land. It rasped against Neptune's skin with the pain of sandpaper, choked in her lungs like gas, and she sobbed at her own helplessness as she lay prone on the ground, fingers stapled across her chest in an inadequate effort to stop the blood that flowed out between them, the edges of the long, diagonal wound still smoking where she had been cut.

"No," she pleaded, but her voice was lost in the roar of the fire, and all she could do, all she could damn well do as the red stain spread over her body, dripping from skin and clothing to contaminate even the earth around her, was to watch with an unsteady heart as the orange jet of fire headed straight for the Princess. Watch as Uranus, the only one of them still standing, ran with a face set like granite towards that oncoming convergence of death. Long limbs kissed by the starlight, she flew without hesitation or regret to her duty, clasping the Princess to her chest and turning her back to the flames, protecting. Protecting with her own body the fragile hope of the future that resided in their Princess's small frame, her gentle blue eyes, her pure heart free of hatred or malice or jealousy.

Perhaps; perhaps thought Neptune with a wrench of pain, Uranus protected so vehemently because those things were lost to her now, lost in the savage fury of newly broken innocence, and her only desire was to sacrifice her own tainted existence to save one more worthy.

When the jet hit her, Uranus screamed. Burning with the liquid heat at the centre of a far galaxy's sun, there was no human on Earth who could have felt those flames and lived, but Uranus wasn't human, not entirely. In her veins flowed the strength of a cold, lonely planet turning steadily in the far freezing reaches of space, and it gave her the ability to endure, the mark of her destiny beaming out brightly from her forehead as the fire began to burn.

It ravaged her flesh in moments, licking greedily at her back, her arms, her legs, anywhere it could reach, seeking always to find a way to breach her defence and blacken the silver-sheened girl she held in her arms. Uranus didn't let it happen. She fell to her knees, cries becoming hoarse in a throat overcome by agony, but she didn't let go. She was going to burn, burn right away to nothing before Neptune's horrified eyes, and it could have happened, would have happened, had not the stream of flame coming from the girl who was their enemy stopped as suddenly and unexpectedly as a tap being turned off.

The girl, so young, so very young to be causing such destruction, stared at her suddenly powerless hands in horror. "W-what?" she whispered, flexing her fingers as if to recall the fire. "You can't…" As if in supplication, she turned her eyes upwards, begging for mercy from whatever dark power she saw there. "Please! I need more time, another chance. Don't—"

A terrible wet, rending sound ended her words, and where the girl had been, there was now only the dismembered remains of what could have been a body, torn apart as easily as pink paper. And somewhere far above them, a star winked out unnoticed in the sky.

Fire was still dancing gleefully across the skin of the fallen Uranus, and Neptune tried, tried to summon the healing relief of the sea, but her element was deaf to her pleas. Slowly around her, other soldiers were struggling to their feet, or their knees at least if their legs would not support them, and a tear squeezed from one impossibly dry eye as Neptune heard the soft rill of harp strings and saw water cascading down upon the stricken blonde haired senshi, banishing the flames at last. Mercury.

Moon struggled out from beneath Uranus, streaks of soot and moisture alternating over skin and fuku. She was shaken, but unscathed, and for one moment Neptune's treacherous heart wished things could have turned out otherwise.

"Uranus," Moon said, staring down at her crumpled saviour in horror while the others hung back, almost as if afraid to approach. Only Pluto moved, but she went to Neptune's side, kneeling down by her and taking her condition in with grave eyes.

"Pluto," whispered Neptune, too weak to move and nearly too weak to talk. "Take me to her, please."

Pluto hesitated a moment, then nodded. She didn't bother trying to help Neptune to her feet, merely picked her up and carried her the short distance to Uranus's side, depositing her on newly bare earth that smoked like hot tar in the rain where the droplets of Neptune's blood fell.

Taking one flame-blistered hand in her own, Neptune turned her eyes, like a coward, from the devastation that had been her lover's body. She should have forced herself, should have done Uranus the final honour of witnessing the wounds that had saved them all, but she couldn't. She didn't want to look upon red weals and blackened flesh and the inescapable knowledge of what it meant. Instead, she focused on what little she could see of the senshi's unblemished face, one cheek pressed to the earth, hair falling into her eyes. If she looked there, just there and nowhere else, Neptune could almost imagine Uranus was only sleeping; that she would wake, and smile, and lean over to Neptune and kiss her as she'd done on so many mornings in a past that seemed suddenly very long ago.

"Uranus," she whispered, not expecting any response.

Impossibly, two teal eyes struggled open, falling on her with a gaze as cold and unforgiving as steel. "Don't touch me," Uranus said, twitching her hand away, and desolation settled over Neptune's heart like a shroud while above them, the wind screamed in agony and thunderclouds began to gather in the sky.

* * *

_Vienna, February 28, 2002_

It was a flawless performance, as always. The last of the winter season, and Michiru knew that tomorrow the papers would be full of praise for her. They loved her in this city, adored her for her grace and her beauty and the notes that fell forever sweetly from her violin. She was perfection to them; they had placed her on a pedestal in order to worship and created an image of her in their own minds that had little to do reality. They didn't want to know her, not really, at least not anything that would disrupt their idea of her. They didn't want to know about the pain that clawed at her skin even now as she stood smiling beneath these shining lights, about the hollow darkness that never left her heart.

Everything about Michiru's life was a sham these days. Her curling waist-length hair that her admirers liked to say gave her an air of girlish innocence, her supposed romance with the man everyone claimed her to be madly in love with; her music. Worst of all her music. No matter how much the reviewers raved, Michiru would never fool herself into thinking that her music was worthy of commendation any more. Always what she played now was empty, so flat and dull she would have shuddered in shame once to produce such shallow offerings.

But she performed for audiences whose souls were too feeble to know passion from passivity and the sterile wasteland that had supplanted her creativity went unmarked. There was one, Michiru thought, who would have been able to tell the difference, but she had stopped listening a long time ago.

The applause, the accolades; it was all meaningless but Michiru endured it. She smiled, she laughed, she told them all what they wanted to hear because she didn't care enough not to. This was her last night in Vienna; tomorrow she would be gone and she could block this time of nothingness from her memory as if it had never been. Tomorrow, after two and a half years, she was finally returning to Japan and even if she found only cold welcome it would still better than this.

At last, the curtain descended. Michiru kept the smile on her face all the way to her dressing room. She couldn't not, with all those who thought themselves her friends and colleagues congratulating her and wishing her well. It wasn't until she was safely alone that she allowed the mask to fall. Her graceful stride faltered and her body shook with pain and exhaustion; her face was bleak, her eyes dead. Still, out of habit, like one who repeats a prayer long after belief has fled, she went through the old, old ritual of stowing her violin away, lovingly, carefully. Perhaps because it was the only reminder she had of a time when her life wasn't like this.

She closed the case and sat slumped in front of her dressing room mirror, staring unseeingly into her reflection.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Michiru said flatly, knowing who it would be.

He entered smiling. He carried roses. It was worse because he meant it.

Michiru looked at him in the mirror without rising, without turning to greet him. Her eyes blurred and she remembered a glittering night in the city of her home that seemed more than six years ago, heard the echo of another knock, saw the ghost of another charismatic young man flicker through the glass.

The Three Lights were mostly forgotten now, discarded detritus in a world forever seeking novelty, but Michiru remembered them. She remembered how Seiya had entered her room that evening, all suave confidence and smiles. How they'd fenced, the two of them, beneath a flirtatiousness that was neither real nor feigned but fell somewhere in between.

She remembered Haruka's voice later, close to her ear, teasing but slightly hurt, just a hint of uncertainty in her dusky blue eyes. _Am I not enough for you anymore?_

How she'd said it, watching Michiru in the mirror as she slowly unzipped the dress that was rightfully hers to unzip, thumbnail trailing fire down Michiru's spine.

_Always_.

Whispered, passionate, wanting, had been Michiru's reply, and she'd only just had time to see the sudden surge of desire on Haruka's face before she found herself being turned and lifted to sit on the dressing table, dress on the floor; vases, bottles and containers swept away in a series of fatal crashes that neither of them heeded, the glorious pressure of Haruka's body pressed hard between her legs…

"God Michiru, where are you tonight?"

Michiru jumped as a hand touched her shoulder, so different from the touch she remembered. She forced the weary smile onto her lips once more and rose to face the man that others called her partner.

"Nowhere. I'm just tired. Thank you for these, they're lovely."

Taking the roses from him, she removed the paper and arranged them in a vase, glad of the excuse it gave her to turn away. Her memories had not left her unaffected, and she didn't want him to look into her eyes and see any hint of the desire there that was not for him.

"You deserve it," he said. "Your performance was amazing."

He kissed her then, on the cheek, bringing his body close to hers and placing an arm around her waist. Michiru stiffened a little but did not otherwise resist. Only thought, _you don't know amazing. If you'd seen how I played before, you would know better than to honour me for what I do now._

"I'm glad," she murmured indifferently.

Fingers brushed through the wave of her hair. "Are you really flying back to Japan tomorrow?" he asked, voice slightly hoarse with a sadness and longing that couldn't reach her.

"I am." Michiru moved away, making it deliberate, and gave him the same pseudo-rational speech she'd given to everyone else. "I've been offered the position of lead violin with the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra and it's a good opportunity, especially since they're about to start a co-production of _The Rite of Spring_ with Tokyo Ballet. You know that's a piece I've always loved."

"A good opportunity?" He laughed ironically. "For the past two years, you've performed in Europe almost exclusively as a soloist. Just being lead violin in some orchestra is a step down from that."

"Perhaps. But when you're a soloist, you never really get to connect with a whole group of musicians the way you do when you play as one of them. I've missed that feeling. And there will be plenty of soloist work when I want it, so I'm hardly going to be damaging my career."

"Michiru…"

"What?"

"I wish you didn't feel like you have to lie to me."

"If you already know the truth, why are you asking?" Michiru's tone was unfairly snappish, but she couldn't help it. She was sore and tired and more nervous about the journey before her than she wanted to admit and the last thing she wanted was the appeal that she knew was coming.

There was a pause before he spoke again, carefully. "You've never told me what it was exactly that caused the rift between you and your family back in Japan, but I know you've never recovered from it. Are you sure that going home is the right thing to do? What if they just end up hurting you again?"

"Then I'll let them."

"Why?" The frustration was clear in his voice.

"Because I deserve it."

"How could you possibly deserve—"

"Just leave it, please. It's not something I can explain to you."

He didn't reply to that, only gazed at her with a steady compassion Michiru couldn't endure. She flicked her eyes away from his, suddenly close to tears while the conflicted, almost perverse, need for what he offered blossomed in her chest. Recognising that expression, for he had seen it before, he moved forward and held her once more, wrapping around her from behind. His body felt wrong, the way it always did, all hard angles where there should have been softness, but Michiru didn't have the strength to push him away this time.

"Let me come with you," he whispered into the ocean coloured tresses that fell past the curve of her shoulder. "Just to see you settled."

Despising herself, Michiru wavered. With his arms around her like this, she felt safe. The way a coward did hiding in the darkness of a cellar.

"You know I don't love you," she said, almost pleadingly.

"I know." His voice was satin-silk in its softness. "But I don't care. I still love you."

Michiru winced suddenly in pain as his grip tightened. If she'd believed her life was still worthy of being guided by destiny, she would have said she felt the wheeling of the stars in that moment. Her mind had tried to forget, but her flesh remembered, and the cry of the one who had given this to her came back red as blood and difficult as being born. It reminded her of what she was, and what she had lost, and that there was only one course of action she could take if there was to be any chance of absolution.

"No," she said, and for the first time in two years she thought she heard the echo of another Michiru speaking in her voice; one who was not afraid to fight. One who still had dreams worth fighting for. "I don't want to be with you anymore. I've already told you that."

She shook him off and turned to face him, dropping unconsciously into a soldier's defensive stance. His eyes widened.

"I'm sorry…" he stumbled slightly over the words. "D-does it hurt again tonight?"

"It hurts," Michiru replied grimly. "It always hurts when I play."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Tokyo, January 1, 2002_

Once, the way Uranus was looking at her now would have scared the Moon Princess to death. Eyes smouldering with anger and rebellion, power crackling about her fists; she could easily have torn the world to pieces in such a state, and there had been more than one occasion over the past two and a half years when all of them feared she would.

"No," Uranus said flatly, voice low and stubborn, "I will not agree to this."

"I'm not asking you to agree to it," said the Princess, bolstered by the solid feeling of Pluto standing silent and steady behind her right shoulder. "I am telling you that this is the decision I have made."

"Well it's the wrong one!"

The Princess sighed. "Uranus," she said softly. "You know we have to do something. We're losing this battle. We've been losing it for the last two years, ever since…Neptune went away."

Uranus scowled at the mention of her once-partner and flicked her eyes to Pluto. "I suppose you had a hand in this," she almost sneered. "What is it, are you more anxious to regain a friend in the present than protect the future from harm?"

In a gesture of younger days, the Princess stamped her foot and angled hands to hips. "Speak to me, Uranus, not her. I resolved on this course of action alone. I'm recalling Neptune because we need her."

With a derisive snort, Uranus looked away.

Outside, it was snowing, but here, in Mamoru's conservatory, roses bloomed as if summer was eternal. Red and white and yellow, they spilled from the confines of their rows to waft sweet perfume into the warm, heavy air. It was Mamoru's passion now, to grow roses; a reaction perhaps against all those years spent alone in stagnant high rise apartments. Usagi often held her consultations here; it was more private, and more fitting, to address her soldiers in a setting such as this than in the often-untidy living room of her house.

Of course, these were issues that the Usagi of a few years ago would never even have considered. But, the Usagi of today thought ruefully as she watched the shadows shifting in Uranus's eyes, a lot could change in a few years.

Roses. The smell of roses. How long had it been since Usagi plunged into battle with that scent to sweeten her courage? With petals falling from the sky because the very flowers of this world could not help but weep at the beauty of the two soldiers who fought by her side.

From her beloved Mamoru Usagi kept no secrets and never had, but for all that he still didn't know about the envelope buried in the depths of her underwear drawer. The one containing rose petals collected from the blasted aftermath of a battlefield in the days when a single daimon was still something to worry about.

Uranus didn't know either, but perhaps she suspected. Blue gaze piercing out from beneath a ragged blonde fringe, she finally spoke again in a low husk that carried with it all the intimacy of a bedchamber. "You have no need of Neptune, Princess. Not when I am here to protect you."

The Princess could only smile at her soldier in reply, knowing Uranus had come to love her in a way she entirely shouldn't, knowing it hurt her, knowing she felt that way because she desperately needed the feeling, painful as it was, to fill a desolate heart that only one could heal. "This isn't a debate, Uranus," she said, making her voice firm. "I am ordering you to accept Neptune as your partner again."

An angry blast of wind outside that sent snowflakes flurrying gave a fairly accurate assessment of Uranus's response to that, but nevertheless, she lowered her head in compliance. "Yes Princess," she murmured.

"And I want you to be the one to give these back to her."

Uranus stared at the ocean coloured transformation pen and the dark surface of the Aqua Mirror as if she had never seen them before. She opened her mouth, closed it again. At last took the proffered items from her Princess's hand.

"I will."

The Princess inclined her head. "Thank you Uranus. You may go."

She slumped slightly in relief as the tall senshi of the sky stalked out of the darkening conservatory, and turned to the hitherto silent Pluto. "Are you sure we're doing the right thing?" she asked, finally allowing her uncertainly to show.

Pluto turned her staff uneasily in her hands. "No," she admitted. "But we have to do something, and not just for the sake of the war. Two years and five months now it's been, and not for one moment has Uranus ever stopped hurting. This thing has got to be resolved one way or the other, and that's never going to happen while Neptune is in exile."

"Yes," the Princess agreed, "this has got to be resolved…" But her eyes were troubled as she turned to look out at the fast fading daylight and her hands clasped themselves together unconsciously in distress.

* * *

_New Tokyo International Airport, March 2, 2002_

Michiru stepped off the plane with sand in her eyes and a crick in her neck. There was the usual chaos in the arrivals lounge. Friends and family reuniting in hugs and fast-streaming sentences, guests being greeted respectfully by suited escorts holding names written on paper and cardboard in every language imaginable, those obviously new to the country wandering about anxiously trying to find ATMs and advice on transport.

She was almost bowled off her feet as a black haired streak ran straight into her arms, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Michiru!" Hotaru squealed, loud enough that several people turned to stare. "It's so good to see you again!"

The tight knot of nerves that had been plaguing Michiru's stomach ever since she was summoned back to Japan eased, just a little, at the warmth of Hotaru's greeting. Of all her old acquaintances, Hotaru was the only one Michiru had seen since she was sent in to exile two and a half years ago. It had been her punishment to be excommunicated, denied any contact with or knowledge of what had once been her world. But it had been agreed that it wouldn't be fair if Hotaru was robbed of one of her mothers, no matter what the circumstances, and so she had been allowed to visit Michiru sporadically in Vienna.

On those visits, Michiru had always ensured that the man she supposedly loved was not in evidence.

When Hotaru at last drew back, allowing Michiru to get some much needed air into her lungs, the remaining two members of the greeting party came forward. There stood Setsuna, as sophisticated and beautiful as Michiru remembered, her dark green hair even longer if possible, and beside her was a serene and serious-eyed young woman who moved with the effortless grace of a princess. Michiru could hardly believe it was Usagi.

"Michiru-san," said the blonde haired girl softly.

Michiru felt herself colour slightly and wished she could lower her eyes, remembering the events of a sultry summer night that nearly led to the ruin of them all.

But Usagi wouldn't let her, holding her gaze firmly. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Are you?" Michiru found herself asking, acrid cynicism searing her words.

Setsuna was the one who answered. "Yes," she said, moving forward to copy Hotaru's blindingly tight hug. "We're all glad you decided to come home. We've missed you."

She wasn't lying; Michiru could see that. There was even forgiveness in her expression, but Michiru still tilted a sardonic eyebrow her way.

"All?" she echoed. She flicked her eyes past Usagi and Setsuna. There was no one else there. No tall lean blonde standing back casually with a slight smile on her face and an intensity in her eyes that used to make Michiru's cheeks burn.

Setsuna lowered her head and didn't reply.

"Do you have everything?" she asked abruptly, changing the subject. "We should get out of here. I hate airports."

Michiru sighed and nodded, wisps of her long, curling hair escaping from its plait to fall about her face. "Yes. I'm ready to go."

* * *

"So," Michiru asked when they had negotiated their way out of the choked airport car park and reached the freedom of the highway, "what hotel did you book me into?"

Setsuna, who was driving, glanced at her slantwise. "We didn't book you a hotel."

"What? But—"

"We don't want you staying in some hotel all by yourself," said Hotaru, leaning forward from the back seat and propping her arms on Michiru's headrest. "We want you to come and stay with us."

"With you? I'm not sure that's such a good idea. It – it might not suit everyone."

Hotaru rolled her eyes. "If you're talking about Haruka, don't worry. She doesn't live with us anymore."

Michiru tried not to let her surprise show. "She doesn't?"

"No. Not long after – after you left, she moved into her own place."

"Oh. You never said."

"N-no," Hotaru agreed slowly.

It was only after she answered that Michiru remembered she had probably been forbidden from telling her before.

"Anyway," said Hotaru, moving on quickly, "it's fine; Haruka's place is really nice and she has a spare bedroom so I can stay over whenever I want, but at home, it's just me and Setsuna now, so, you know…if you did want to move in for a while it wouldn't be a problem. No awkwardness."

Michiru sat tidily with her hands clasped in her lap, staring out of the window at the endless lines of telegraph poles whizzing by as jetlag slowly set in.

"I'd like to stay," she said. "As long as you don't mind."

"No," said Setsuna, her eyes focused resolutely on the road. "We don't mind at all."

* * *

No one said anything, but Michiru understood that she would, of necessity, be staying in the room that she and Haruka used to share. Setsuna showed her up, as if she was a guest who didn't know the way, and stood beside her rather uncertainly at the open door.

"Is this…going to be okay?" she asked.

Her eyes sweeping over the familiar surroundings, Michiru nodded and entered the room. She flung her suitcase down next to the bed that she and Haruka had once shared and turned to Setsuna with a brittle smile that didn't fool either of them. "This is fine, thank you."

"If you want to swap rooms with me…" Setsuna began.

"No," said Michiru sharply. "I don't want to put you out. There is nothing wrong with this room. I can stay here."

The slightest of sly smiles may have twitched for a moment on Setsuna's lips. "Very well. You know where the nearest bathroom is. Freshen up and then come and join us for lunch."

Gently, she closed the door. The curtains swayed slightly in the draft.

Alone, Michiru surveyed what had once been the heart of her domain. All of the furniture was the same; the bed, the nightstands, the bookshelf, the dressing table, the wardrobe. But the room was empty now, sterile, all the friendly clutter Michiru remembered swept away by the ravages of time. No more cosmetics jostling for space on the dresser; Michiru didn't even collect the stuff anymore. Somehow, there hadn't been much point without Haruka's teasing to spur her on to ever greater heights of synthetic madness. The shelf looked lonely without its burden of trophies, hers and Haruka's, and the bed…Michiru kept her eyes turned away from the bed.

She crossed the floor and went to the window, staring out at the modest back garden and the roofs of nearby houses peeking over the fence. It was a mundane, suburban view, and yet, Michiru thought, in this room, in this house, she'd been happier than she'd ever been at any other time in her life. She'd had a real family here, and she'd never stopped missing the warmth they all used to share.

There had been extensive discussions before the purchase of this house. Her and Haruka and Setsuna; between the three of them they could have afforded a mansion if they wanted to, even in those days, but ultimately they decided that they didn't want that for Hotaru. They'd wanted her to grow up like a normal girl, and so they had settled on this, a modest house in a quiet, respectable suburb. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms one living room; a studio for Michiru and a study for Setsuna. Haruka insisted on nothing but being able to take over the TV with her games whenever she wanted to, but that hadn't been a problem since none of them had ever been big TV watchers anyway.

For four years the outer soldiers had shared this house together, in which Michiru had been able to watch Hotaru grow rapidly from a baby into a life-loving fifteen year old, to see some of the haunted loneliness leave Setsuna's eyes, to see Haruka finally starting to trust the love around her.

_And if I saw Haruka now_, Michiru thought, _what would she be like? Would that trust still be there?_

It was a rhetorical question. The empty room surrounding her spoke the answer more loudly than words.


	3. Chapter 3

For Xrost

**Chapter Three**

_Hikawa Shrine, October 9, 1999_

After an unusually hot and lingering summer, it seemed that an early winter was preparing to set in. Against grey skies and biting winds the senshi battled their way to the top of Hikawa Shrine for the meeting that had been called; all that is, but one.

Eight soldiers gathered around Rei's table that day – four inner, three outer, and the princess of them all.

Some of them still bore the marks of their most recent battle, even though it had now been over three months ago.

Setsuna was the one who took up the responsibility of speaking. Usagi, practically in tears already, refused point blank. Looking about her, Setsuna could see her own tortured reluctance reflected on the faces of her fellow soldiers, and she wished that this didn't have to be done; that she wasn't the one who had to do it. But this was not a decision that could be delayed any longer, and as the oldest of the Outer Soldiers, she was the one most fitted to bear this burden.

"You all know why this meeting has been called," she began bluntly. There was no point trying to soften what was coming. Indeed, in a way, to try and diminish the gravity of the matter would almost have been obscenely unfeeling. "We have to decide what to do…about Michiru."

The statement was met with uncomfortable silence and eyes that carefully avoided hers. Everyone present knew as well as Setsuna that something had to be done, but that didn't make it any easier. It didn't change the fact that none of them wanted to be here, doing this. Actually deciding what to do with the solider who had betrayed them.

It was Rei who finally began, hesitantly. "What she did, it can't go unpunished. Her actions nearly caused the destruction of – of everything. We can't trust her anymore."

Slowly, guiltily, Makoto, Minako and Ami began to speak up in agreement. It was terrible, yes, they all recognised that, but still, but still…

Setsuna heard what they didn't say as much as what they did. But still, it was the life of their princess that could have been lost, and as much as they loved her, they would sacrifice Michiru if it meant assuring Usagi's safety.

It was what all of them would do, even Setsuna. Because they were soldiers, and their most important duty was to protect the princess. In this, they did not have a choice.

And it was the only one not bound by this duty who argued passionately against what was being proposed. "Michiru didn't do anything wrong," Usagi said quietly, hands clenched tight in her lap. "She didn't know – couldn't know – where her actions would lead."

An awkward pause followed. None of them wanted to admit it, but they were all waiting to see what Haruka would say. She was really the one to whom this decision would fall. In the days leading up to this meeting, banishment was the word that had been whispered. Banishment and the stripping of all soldier's rights. An unprecedented punishment for an unprecedented crime.

But if Haruka did not agree, if Haruka refused to fight without Michiru by her side, then banishment was not going to be the outcome of today. Bad enough if they had to lose one of their strongest fighters; they certainly couldn't afford to lose two.

Sitting silently, long legs drawn up and chin resting on her knees, Haruka seemed oblivious of her position. Golden bangs fell across her forehead, hiding her eyes, and even when Hotaru asked her for her opinion there was no response. Burn marks still lingered on her skin. They'd be gone in another couple of months, both Setsuna and Ami assured Haruka of this daily, but she didn't seem to care either way. She wore her solitude around her like armour these days, and only Setsuna knew her well enough to know that this Haruka, lonely, tormented, lashing out at anyone who tried to come close to her, was the Haruka who had been before Michiru.

At last raising her eyes, Haruka turned towards Usagi and spoke in a low voice that reverberated with barely constrained fury. "How can you say that?" she demanded. "How can you say Michiru didn't know what she was doing? Because of her, you could have been burned to death. You should be demanding that she pay."

"No!" Usagi stubbornly shook her head. "I love her. I won't send one of my friends away. I don't care what she's done! We can work through this, everyone – Haruka. We can still heal these wounds…"

Haruka threw her head back with an ironic bark of laughter. "Look around, Usagi. It's been three months and none of us have healed. And none of us will as long as she is still here with us. She broke our trust. She destroyed what we've worked so hard to build all these years. She—" It shouldn't have been possible, but Haruka's voice grew even colder. "She should be banished."

Defiantly, she swept the guilty and uncertain eyes of her fellow soldiers, settling last and longest of all on Setsuna. "That's what we came here to do today, isn't it? To banish Michiru from our midst?"

"No," said Setsuna, though she could hear the lie in her own voice, and knew from Haruka's sardonically raised eyebrow that she heard it too. "We're meeting today to decide how Michiru should be punished."

"And I propose banishment. Do you disagree?"

Setsuna hung her head. She could feel Haruka's eyes boring into her, hard with an anger that failed to hide the chaos of hurt and confusion raging beneath. God, this was a nightmare. For three months Michiru had been trying to make restitution to Haruka; for three months Haruka had refused to even look at her. One burned, the other cut, both lying in their respective beds in the medical wing of secret laboratory beneath the Outer Soldiers' residence and neither recovering from an emotional fallout that Setsuna feared would prove even more serious than the injuries that had taken them to the brink of death.

And the worst of it was, as much as Setsuna knew Haruka wanted revenge and not justice, she didn't disagree with her. And Haruka knew it. She knew, on some level, that Setsuna – that perhaps all of them – felt just as hurt, just as angry, as she did, and she was going to use that to make sure she got what she wanted.

"No," Setsuna admitted finally. "I don't disagree with you."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this!" Shrill and thin, Hotaru's voice sprung upon them like a discordant violin. Ah. So that was why she had been so quiet until now. She'd been preparing to fight. In spite of the circumstances, Setsuna allowed herself a small glow of pride. She was proud of how her daughter was growing up, even if it meant she was going to be caused pain today.

"Haruka-papa, Setsuna-mama, I know that Michiru messed up, and I'm not saying she shouldn't be punished, but she doesn't deserve to be sent away. You know why she did what she did. She wasn't trying to betray any of us. She—"

"She chose to help the enemy over us," Haruka replied flatly, eyes grey as slate. "There is nothing more to be said."

"There's so much more to be said," Hotaru insisted. "We can't just—"

"Hotaru," said Setsuna gently, placing a hand on Hotaru's shoulder, "I love Michiru too, but we can't let our feelings for her interfere with our judgment."

Her tone righteous as only an adolescent's could be, Hotaru cut through Setsuna's rationalisations with uncomfortably searing insight. "You're accusing _me_ of having impaired judgment? Everyone here knows that Haruka is only doing this to punish Michiru because she's so angry at her. It's got nothing to do with upholding the honour of the Sailor Soldiers or protecting the princess. It's all because Michiru—"

"Fine," said Haruka tightly, obviously not wanting to hear from anyone's lips a deconstructive recount of past events. "If my judgment is so unreliable, don't leave it up to me. Let us all decide. We will take a vote, and whatever the majority decide will be what comes to pass. That, surely, must be considered fair?"

Fair or not, it was how they did it. Setsuna put forward the proposal, and shamefaced, with eyes fixed on the floor, the four Inner soldiers raised their hands. Haruka quickly joined her hand with theirs, boldly staring down the pleading looks of Hotaru and Usagi. Even Setsuna's compassionate glance was haughtily rejected. Haruka was not going to accept pity from anyone about this, and nor would she give any. She only smiled triumphantly when Setsuna raised her hand last of all.

Usagi motioned that Michiru be cleared of all charges and reinstated with full rights, but only she and Hotaru were in favour of that. Two against six; it wasn't enough. And so, that evening, Michiru was condemned to banishment, stripped of her transformation pen, her mirror and identity as a soldier. And if there had been anyone who knew her well enough in her new life in Vienna, they would have known that when she lost those things she was stripped of her heart as well.

* * *

_Tokyo, March 6, 2002_

They insisted on holding a birthday dinner for her. It was all a little bit awkward. With Setsuna and Hotaru and Usagi it was all right, but they were the ones Michiru had been closest to before. The Inner soldiers were another matter. Guilt was in their eyes as they greeted her, guilt and lingering mistrust. Desperately sorry for their own actions, they tried hard to welcome Michiru back, but their voices sounded false to her sensitive musician's ear. She could hear the discord of their own unresolved feelings in each tone, and she wished they'd be more honest with her, as Setsuna had been.

Having some sort of Talk had been unavoidable, but at least Setsuna had made it as brief and painless as possible.

Over a bottle of wine, ensconced in the leather-chair recesses of a shadowy bar hushed with wealth, Setsuna had told her meditatively, "I was angry with you at the time. We all were. And I really did worry that your judgment had been somehow impaired. That you'd forgotten what it meant to be a sailor soldier. When you were sixteen years old, you were prepared to take lives to save the world. With your own hands you were willing to kill a helpless girl who through no fault of her own carried the Messiah of Silence within her. At twenty-one—"

"At twenty-one," said Michiru, only allowing the slightest ripple of passion to disrupt the calm timbre of her voice, "I had learned that taking the lives of innocents was not the way to save the world. Our princess was the one who taught us that, remember?"

Setsuna smiled slightly. "Either way, it is over and done with. A lot of mistakes were made by everyone, and god knows we've all paid for them. I just want you to know that I'm sorry for everything that happened, and that…whatever my feelings were, I trust you now."

Michiru hid her sudden rush of feeling behind her wine glass. "Thank you," she said, when she was sure she wouldn't cry.

"The others feel the same, you know. Hotaru and Usagi never wanted you banished, and the Inners haven't ever really gotten over the guilt, no matter how necessary they thought it was."

"Yes," said Michiru. "I can see that I have the chance to redeem myself with everyone." She paused. "Everyone except her."

With that conversation fresh in her mind, Michiru looked with a sense of foreboding at the empty place set at the restaurant's table. As far as she knew, everyone who was coming had already arrived.

"Who is that place for?" she asked Setsuna, sure she didn't want to know the answer.

With an apologetic gaze and a gentle brush of Michiru's shoulder, Setsuna confirmed, "it's for Haruka."

"I…see." Michiru's heart began to beat a tattoo of anxiety within her chest. "I didn't know she was coming tonight."

"She is. Usagi ordered her to."

"Oh," was all Michiru could say, stupidly. She didn't know which surprised her more – that Usagi would give such an order, or that Haruka would follow it.

She picked up her glass and took a gulp of water, hoping it would steady her. It immediately began to roil in her stomach like the high seas in a storm. Their waiter for the evening approached and, handing round the menus, began to reel off recommendations. Michiru hardly noticed him. Across the room, the door to the restaurant had opened and it seemed to tear a corresponding crack somewhere in the thickly glazed surface of Michiru's soul. She thought this was what she had come home for – to learn how to feel again, to break through the crippling numbness that had come to dominate her existence ever since she left – but she wasn't so sure she wanted it now.

Not when all she could feel was pain.

Still, after all this time.

The tall familiar figure dressed in a trim black suit closed the door behind her, dulling the noise of the street, and slouched over to the table with her hands in her pockets and her cropped hair shining like gold.

God, she was just as beautiful as Michiru remembered.

Eyes wild as a desert sky sought and held her gaze for a moment, defiant and unforgiving. Michiru drew in breath like a drowning woman, not having any idea of what she was going to say but knowing that she needed to say _something_. Before she could, Haruka glanced away from her dismissively.

"Princess." Haruka's greeting, murmured in a sultry tone Michiru remembered only too well, seemed to deliberately ignore everyone at the table and not just her. What was it the others had done, she wondered, that deserved such ire? Probably nothing, besides forgive her.

But then, that would be the worst crime of all in Haruka's book.

Except, apparently, in the case of Usagi.

Lowering her head, Haruka dropped a kiss to Usagi's temple and allowed her lips to linger there with an intensity that suggested something more than platonic feeling. Usagi laughed easily and batted her away, obviously not unused to it.

The sight of their intimacy sent an irrational stab of jealousy through Michiru, mingled with a kind of exasperated anger at the childishness of it all.

Did Haruka really have to rub it in her face quite so obviously that she didn't mean anything to her anymore? And when it was such a blatantly immature display, why did it still have to hurt so damn much?

Straightening, Haruka cast a dark look round the table that could have meant anything but seemed to mostly mean, _you made me come here, now deal with the consequences_.

"Michiru," she said, far too casual. "It's been a long time."

"Yes," Michiru agreed blandly. "It has." She didn't like that Haruka was still standing. She wanted to rise to her own feet too so that Haruka couldn't continue to look down on her the way she was, as a king might look upon the lowliest of slaves. But at the same time, she didn't want to let Haruka know that her very evident stance of assumed superiority was bothering her.

Before she could make a decision, Haruka cocked an eyebrow at her and gave her a rakish smile that was more savagery than charm. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"To recommence your duties. Two Sparklers landed in Green Park about half an hour ago. You and I should easily be able to deal with them. Unless you'd rather stay here." The sarcasm clearly indicated which option she assumed her ex-partner would prefer.

"Haruka!" Setsuna cut in, her voice affronted. "This is Michiru's birthday. You can't just—"

Michiru rose to her feet, ignoring everything except those dusky eyes that were always assessing, and always finding her wanting. "I'm ready."

"Michiru—"

"It's fine," Michiru said. "Haruka's right. This is what I came back to do. We can have dinner another time."

"At least let us come with you."

Despite herself, Michiru felt a slight smile curving her lips. None of this was right, it was all distorted and not at all how it once would have been, and yet it was similar enough to evoke those other times. She and Haruka, fighting side by side, adrenaline and excitement and yes sometimes arousal the heady cocktail that had been her life.

"We'll be fine," she said, and followed Haruka out of the restaurant.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Michiru could not even begin to describe the strangeness of her emotions at being in a car with Haruka again. Not just any car, but the same one. The very same yellow convertible. She glanced sideways at Haruka's profile.

Frowning, Haruka stared at the road.

Neon lights and street lamps flashed by like fragments of another world, and the wind rushed cold against Michiru's skin.

Finally she spoke.

"How have you been?"

"Fine." It was more rebuff than answer.

"Haruka, I wanted to tell you—"

"Have you been training since you got back?" The brisk tone of Haruka's voice made it clear that this enforced partnership was going to be one of business and nothing else.

"Of course," said Michiru, even though it was a lie. Actually, training was something that she'd been avoiding. Even now she could feel the scar on her chest twinging, and part of her feared that when it came down to it, she wouldn't be able to fight as she had before. Her only hope was that being able to transform again might make a difference.

As if following something of her thought, Haruka suggested, "you should open the glove compartment."

Michiru didn't bother to ask why, knowing Haruka wouldn't answer. She merely did as instructed and felt her heart leap at the two glinting objects that lay within. Her mirror and her transformation pen. Quick as a greedy child she gathered them to her, feeling them slide easily into her hands, so familiar, like an extension of herself, like missing pieces of her soul slotting back into place.

The sea was roaring in her ears, gloriously powerful. Her skin shimmered as these precious things that were hers alone welcomed her joyfully. Sparks flew into the night sky as she transformed, effortlessly, into the soldier that had always been her best and truest self.

"Show off," Haruka said, a hint of warmth in her voice for the first time.

Strength surging through her, Michiru could have survived an ice age with that tiny flicker of heat.

They looked at each other and smiled, almost shyly, before Haruka seemed to remember that they were no longer friends. Resuming her frown, she returned her eyes to the road.

"So these Sparklers…" She began, and Michiru might have imagined it, but she thought there was an unsteady edge to Haruka's voice.

"They're still around then?" Michiru asked.

"Yes." Haruka confirmed. "Metalia keeps sending them. More to annoy us and wreak havoc than anything else, I think. She knows they're not really powerful enough to challenge us. Oh, they're susceptible to water attacks, but then, you already know that."

Michiru nodded. Her chest was still prickling, threatening to erupt into pain, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. She might just make it through this.

"Is the fight going well?"

Haruka's jaw tightened. "No. Metalia's planning something. Something big, like last time. But we have no idea what it is."

"I see," Michiru said softly, lowering her eyes to stare at her hands clasped neatly in her lap while the memories of that last time and its consequences floated thickly between them.

Metalia. Destroyer of the Moon Kingdom, harbinger of Armageddon. Already Usagi and the Inners had defeated her once in this world, but apparently it hadn't been enough. Unbeknownst, some remnant of her had survived and secreted itself away in the heart of the sun in a far away solar system. For years she'd hidden there, building her strength, brooding on hatred, until she'd erupted into something like a flaming demon queen from hell, bent on subduing the galaxy to her will. First the two inhabited planets orbiting her sun had come under her dominion, and then, as ever, she had turned her malignant gaze towards the Princess of the Moon.

Wave after wave of her soldiers she'd sent through the vast empty reaches to Earth, some human, some not, some willing, others pressed into service with whatever threats proved effective. After six brutal months it had culminated in the Battle on the Hill by the Sea, and after that…Michiru didn't know any more. She'd been sent into exile where no one told her anything.

Sparklers were one of Metalia's favoured creations. Small demons of flame that delighted in fire and destruction, they could cause a lot of damage in a short amount of time. Launched from Metalia's sun, they travelled like flaming comets through space, entering Earth's atmosphere from above and exploding like bombs when they hit the surface. Michiru remembered one battle, early on, when there had been so many of them it was like fire raining down from the sky.

But in smaller numbers they were easily subdued, and Michiru was glad fate hadn't given her a more formidable enemy for her first fight as a reinstated soldier.

When they reached the park, it was already alight. A burning fire truck silently told of the humans who had come to fight the flames, and how the demons had reacted. At least Michiru didn't see any bodies.

As she stood watching, there was a blast of air behind her, a surge of power. Haruka was transforming. She turned, just in time to see it, and oh, it took her back. Back to her life before; a never-ending rush of joy and terror and death and everything that came in between, but always, no matter what, she'd endured because she had then the unshakable conviction that she would never be without her partner by her side. That they would live together and die together and laugh together and cry together until the end of the world and beyond, and that she would never again have to endure the terrible loneliness that had been her fate before Uranus came.

How wrong about that she'd turned out to be.

Uranus approached to stand beside her. Michiru could feel the strength of her implacable will as she surveyed the ground to be won; tried to ignore the tall, magnificent glory that had always been able to turn her knees to water.

"Neptune, do you think you could put out some of these fires?"

"Of course."

It took a moment of mental adjustment to realise that Uranus was right and Neptune should be in the ascendant now, not Michiru. Once she'd made the transition seamlessly, but it seemed that that skill, like many others, was one she was going to have to practice.

The nearby fire truck was a convenient target, and Neptune chose to focus on that. She executed the Deep Submerge faultlessly, to her relief. It hurt when she had to raise her arms above her head to build the power of the attack, but no worse than when she played her violin, and she could endure that for hours.

Smoke billowed from the twisted wreckage, sending up a thick haze that blotted out the sky. Without pause Neptune moved forward into the park, knowing Uranus would follow. She was aware that this was a test of sorts, that her once-lover's intense eyes were noting every small detail of her performance. It was not dissimilar to another sort of gaze Neptune remembered; one that unerringly charted the slightest reaction to every touch, every kiss, every softly spoken word.

Neptune began to think that if she screwed up tonight she would have her hormones to blame, and not her chest at all.

Water streamed from her hands, subduing angry walls of flame. Steaming skeletons of trees emerged, and the blackened earth shimmered with the heat that still rose from its surface. In the air was the acrid smell of burning. Everything was just like last time, on the hill, right down to the inter-mingled scent of the sea.

"There," Uranus said calmly.

A bright demon scampered through the embers, clearly visible without its camouflage of fire.

Neptune aimed a blast of water, missed.

All the fires were out now, but there was still no sign of the second demon.

The first came at them, was upon them before Neptune could gather herself for another Submerge. Hand to hand the Sparklers were hard to fight; they weren't strong but they were composed entirely of flame and any impact left burns on the skin. Not surprisingly, it went for Neptune, no doubt seeing her as the bigger threat with her water-wielding powers. She elegantly blocked its attack, her gloves taking most of the heat strain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the second Sparkler at last, descending from the sky like a flaming rocket and heading straight for Uranus. She yelled a warning, but Uranus had already seen it, was already moving to intercept as Neptune fought her own foe. The demon must have flown as soon as they arrived, heading up into the atmosphere to save itself from the waters before descending to continue the fight.

In close combat, Neptune's chest was starting to give her trouble. She could feel the dull, familiar throb starting up, and it was getting harder to draw in breath. Every time she moved her arms, her legs, her body, with the swiftness the fight demanded sharp pains stabbed through her muscles like knives. Even so she continued, determined she wasn't going to lose. All she needed was to get out of close quarters for a moment, long enough to gather her power and extinguish the creatures. But it seemed her opponent guessed her intent and wasn't going to give her the chance.

A sudden spasm prevented her from raising her arm enough to block a blow, resulting in a fist of fire that impacted squarely on her chest. Grunting in pain, Neptune dropped to one knee. The line of her scar was pure agony now; she could feel her skin stretching and groaning beneath her uniform, and wondered detachedly if it was going to break open again.

"Neptune!"

Uranus called to her; that single word, her name upon her partner's lips, both expression of distress and promise of assistance. It made Neptune's heart throb in a painful way that had nothing to do with her chest, and she watched in envy as Uranus gracefully back flipped away from her own opponent to land within striking distance.

Things might have gone okay then, if Neptune hadn't seen the Space Sword materialise in Uranus's hand.

Suddenly, it was like she was being cut all over again. She could feel the memory of the blade tearing through her skin as she watched its sharp-edged shimmer; felt it slice through tight-packed muscles like butter, and the hot rush of blood, sticky and wet, that flooded into the breach. Barely able to bite back a scream, she crumpled to the ground, heedless of the fiery blows of the Sparkler that now rained down around her head.

Teeth barred, Uranus leapt forward to help her. With a single elegant stroke, she slashed the demon across its back. The sword wasn't enough to kill it, for nothing but water and ice could kill these creatures, but it was enough to cause it damage.

Hissing angrily, the injured Sparkler sprang away from Neptune to join its mate, the two of them circling warily.

Neptune still lay upon the ground. The cut that Uranus had given to the demon she had felt across her own back as well, in addition to the phantom wound in her chest. When it happened she'd arched and moaned in pain, fingers scrabbling at scorched earth for purchase, but if Uranus noticed she gave no sign.

All her attention seemed focused on the demons, her head intently following their weaving dance as they flared and flamed a few feet away. Neptune knew she'd become a liability. She was prone, helpless, and Uranus had to worry about protecting her as well as fighting.

The two Sparklers came together, twining around one another, accelerating into a whirlwind of fire. Through a red haze Neptune watched, trying vainly to summon the power of the sea to her fingertips. Terror was rising in her heart because this was just like last time, and any minute now, any minute, she would be watching helplessly as those merciless flames tore into her partner's flesh.

Uranus, however, seemed unperturbed. Raising her fist defiantly to the sky she summoned the very power of the air itself, building a great golden energy ball that she slammed into the ground and sent flying towards her foes. But there was something different about this World Shaking attack. As the ground cracked, great spurts of water shot up from beneath the earth. The Sparklers – too late – saw it coming. They tried to part, to leap out of the way, but the water was merciless. It engulfed them in a great plume of icy blue, and with hissing, dying screams the Sparklers were quenched. When the water drained away, all that was left was smoke rising over the battlefield.

Quiet, victorious.

Neptune at last struggled to sit up. "I've never seen you do that," she said weakly.

Uranus glanced down at her with an unreadable expression. "I had to adapt my powers to fight fire. We all did."

"Of – of course. It makes sense." Attempting to regain her feet, Neptune unsuccessfully stifled a moan as daggers of pain shot down her chest and into her thighs. She sank back, panting and silently cursing her weakness.

"Let me help you, Michiru." The pity in Uranus's eyes was terrible; worse even than the grey storms of hostility. Looking down at herself, Michiru saw that Uranus was right. Somewhere along the way she'd lost her transformation and become Michiru again, her birthday dress a singed and tattered ruin, stinging burn marks peppering her skin.

"I'm fine," she snapped, staggering upright and ignoring the gloved hand extended to help her. She wanted to cry at the unfairness of it. This was the task she had been recalled to carry out; her one hope for salvation, yet even this was to be withheld from her.

She felt those eyes watching her as she made her way slowly, proudly, to the car. A quick glance down as she passed under the harsh white light of a streetlamp showed her that she hadn't bled, and that was a small mercy at least. Under Uranus's gaze, she already felt too much of a broken thing. Like an eagle whose wings were clipped, preventing it from ever knowing the joy of flight again. Only another eagle, still proud and free, could comprehend the depth of the torment.

Shaking, she got into the car. Without speaking a word, Uranus got in beside her and started up the engine.

They'd been driving for several minutes before Haruka – now detransformed – spoke to her.

"What happened tonight?" she asked.

Michiru turned her head a little further away. "I fought badly," she rasped.

"You fought worse than any soldier I've ever seen. Even Chibiusa."

It cost Michiru all her shattered pride to say the next two words. "I know."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Haruka's eyes shifted from the road, brushing over Michiru disbelievingly. Michiru couldn't look at her. Couldn't risk Haruka guessing the truth about her – that she was now a useless cripple beyond honour or redemption.

"If this is how it's going to be, you and I can't be partners," The statement slid out between them, quiet and lethal as an assassin's knife. "The Princess ordered me to fight with you again, but if you can't do that…"

"I know," said Michiru hollowly. "There is no reason for me to be here."

Before them, the moon was rising, climbing into the sky like a mocking portent of hope forever beyond reach. Michiru didn't look, but she knew that if she did she would see Haruka's unblemished ivory skin touched silver in its light, while her own remained in shadow, all her many taints hiding gratefully in the dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Apologies all for the long delay in updating! Yes, I am still working on this story, very much so, but real life has been rudely intervening so it's going rather slowly.

Today in our lesson we'll be studying history. Pay attention, it's quite hot (because of the fires, obviously).

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_Tokyo, June 16, 1999_

Neptune could tell from the tight line of Uranus's jaw that she was preparing herself mentally for the fact that they were going to have to kill an innocent girl. It was so hot. The setting sun shimmered over a blood red sea, and Neptune's hair hung heavy and damp in sweaty locks, itching on the back of her neck. There was an oppressive stillness to the air that made it hard to breathe and already her limbs were slick with sweat from the long chase that had led them here, to this Hill that Neptune already thought of as hell.

The girl was before them, finally; run down, cornered, dangerous. She was the Enemy and must be defeated at all costs, but all Neptune could think was that she wasn't even as old as Hotaru.

If Uranus was tortured by similar doubts, her face gave no sign of it. Resolutely, she stepped forward and addressed the girl in a cold voice that left no room for compassion.

"You are the one who has been sent here to kill our Princess. You have been hiding on this planet for weeks now, searching for her."

"Yes," the girl replied simply.

"Now that we have found you, we can't allow you to complete your mission." Uranus paused heavily. "You have one chance, to leave now. Return to your world, trouble us no longer, and we won't harm you." Unmistakably, it was a threat.

There was an expression of pain on the girl's face that one so young should have had to bear or understand. "I can't do that," she whispered.

"Very well." With no hint of emotion Uranus drew her Space Sword and held it out before her, its tip pointed towards their Enemy. The steel glinted savagely in her hand. Slowly, she took a menacing step forward.

The girl seemed to shrink before the oncoming Senshi of the Sky. She appeared defenceless, without weapons, and her wild and frightened eyes looked over Uranus's shoulder to latch desperately onto Neptune.

"Michiru," she implored, her voice faint with panic.

Perhaps that was why events unfolded as they did. Perhaps if Tamiko had spoken to Neptune she would have been received differently. Perhaps the plight of an alien girl would not have moved a hard soldier's heart. But Tamiko appealed to Michiru. To the part of her that was human, the part of her that loved her own daughter who was not so very different from Tamiko. To the part of her that loved to create beauty above all things, whether it be in music or painting or her life with her family.

And the part of Neptune that was Michiru was appalled that this could be happening. That the world had become so dark an innocent girl had to die for being caught up in a nightmare over which she had no control.

As a soldier, it was her duty.

As a human being, it was unthinkable.

Back in the days of the Silver Millennium, there wouldn't have been a conflict. Neptune lived to serve, to protect, and anything else apart from that was almost incidental. But now, in this lifetime, Michiru was too much a part of her to be ignored. Maybe Uranus would have said that made her weak. Maybe she was right, but it didn't matter. This wasn't the Silver Millennium and remembering centuries of unending loneliness, Neptune couldn't be sorry about that.

She stepped between Uranus and Tamiko.

"Uranus," she said, "we cannot do this."

Uranus halted abruptly, her face almost comically surprised. It put Neptune in mind, discomfortingly, of Haruka. Of how she looked when Michiru would play some silly prank on her. Memories of light-hearted tenderness that had no place on a battlefield.

"What do you mean?"

There was no suspicion in Uranus's voice, not yet. She cocked her head towards Neptune trustingly, waiting for an answer that she expected to make sense. A soldier's answer. An answer that was never going to come.

"Tamiko hasn't been doing these things by choice," Neptune said. It was difficult to keep her tone steady; her heart was hammering in her chest like a roaring Victorian steam engine. When she told Uranus, when she told Uranus, how she knew, how she knew…

Neptune stopped, breathed, made herself go on. "Metalia has been forcing her, threatening her. She says that if Tamiko doesn't kill Sailor Moon, then Metalia will not only kill her family but destroy her entire planet. She comes from a world that has been completely enslaved."

"And how do you know all of this?" There was confusion now, but still no suspicion. Uranus thought, perhaps, that Neptune had seen or felt these things in her Mirror.

"I know because she told me two weeks ago."

Unconsciously, Neptune balled her white-gloved hand into a fist as she watched Uranus's face, waiting for her to realise, waiting for her expression to change.

As yet, there was only blank incomprehension. "Two weeks ago…?"

"Yes. The day I caught a glimpse of Tamiko in my mirror and the two of us went out searching to see if we could find her. We split up. You didn't find her. But I did."

"No, you didn't Neptune. At the time you said—"

"At the time I said I didn't find her. I lied." There was no way to say it kindly, so Neptune was blunt instead, wanting it over with as quickly as possible. She said it looking into Uranus's eyes, owing her that much respect at least, and oh, it was like watching cities crumble. Whole worlds died in Uranus's eyes that night as the realisation hit her, as the pieces fell into place and she knew her partner had deceived her and betrayed her to protect an Enemy who was bringing destruction to the Earth.

Her own heart was being torn in two in her chest but Neptune stumbled on, knowing it was most likely futile but needing Uranus to understand why she had done this terrible thing. "I did find Tamiko, but she begged me not to reveal her. She told me what I have just told you. She told me that she hated Metalia and wants to be free of her. But I knew that if I revealed her to you or any of the others, you would deem her too dangerous. And I couldn't risk involving the Princess. Metalia placed a burning fragment of stone from her own sun within this girl's heart. It fills her with Metalia's power, with her hatred. I feared that if I allowed her near the Princess, Metalia could take her over."

"Then all this time that we have been looking for Tamiko—"

"I've known where she was," said Neptune, her voice absurdly calm. She could feel herself shaking within but was too proud to let it show. "I've been trying to find a way to help her. To free her of Metalia's influence."

"Let me guess," Uranus's voice dripping with sarcasm. "You haven't succeeded."

"Not yet. But—"

"But nothing! This girl is the enemy. Every soldier has been expending all her energy trying to find her, knowing the danger she posed to us. And all this time you have been protecting her, lying to us. Endangering us all."

"I know that, Uranus! And I hated it. I hated every minute of it. But I couldn't turn her over to you. What if it was Hotaru? What if it was her, trapped on a strange planet all alone, being slowly defiled by an alien possessing her heart? Wouldn't you want someone to help her, to show her mercy?"

"This girl isn't Hotaru. She is nothing to me. Nothing but an Enemy."

Uranus's eyes were flat and hard, defying any possibility of reconciliation. When Neptune had first met Uranus, all those years ago, she hadn't trusted anyone – not an inch. Slowly, surely, Neptune was the one who gained her trust. Neptune become the one Uranus believed in, the one person in the world who she expected to never lie to her, never betray her.

That trust was broken now, and Neptune knew she might never get it back. She knew that if she wanted it she would have to fight Uranus every step of the way, and that there wasn't time for it now, with a battle looming and the hurt still so fresh.

Desperation built inside of Neptune and Tamiko looked towards the sky.

"Oh no," she whispered. "Metalia's warriors are coming. I can feel them."

Uranus looked at Neptune with her wild and angry eyes. "And I can feel the others soldiers. They're almost here. What are you going to do, Neptune? Whose side are you on?"

It was Rei this time who had felt Tamiko's presence, and alerted the others who had immediately assembled to search. Neptune hadn't been able to do anything to stop them discovering where Tamiko was, but naturally when it came down to the pursuit Uranus and Neptune had outstripped all the others, because no one could keep up with them when they ran together. But everyone would be arriving soon, everyone including the Princess.

And knowing better than Uranus the strength of the evil spirit that resided in Tamiko's heart, Neptune secretly feared that the girl would not be strong enough to resist. She feared that as soon as Tamiko saw the Princess, Metalia would take her over and release her terrible powers upon all of them.

This was Neptune's chance. This was her moment of decision. Would she stand with her fellow soldiers to protect the Princess, or would she try to defend the soul of a young girl who was most likely already lost?

Streaks of fire began to descend from the darkening sky. The enemy was upon them. At the same time, panting harshly, the rest of the soldiers appeared over the brow of the hill. All of them; Mercury, Mars, Venus, Jupiter, Pluto, Saturn, and Moon, the Princess of them all.

Already the soldiers were moving to engage the flaming demons that were pounding into the earth like firebombs. Bolts of energy lit up the sky, and the sailor warriors moved swiftly, blurred into streaks, as they met their opponents in combat. There were hisses and screams as Mercury's Aqua Rhapsody quelled a rank of demons, followed by a terrible smell of burning as Jupiter used her Sparkling Wide Pressure to make electricity pass through the water and take care of what was left. In the midst of all this stood the Princess, looking at the violence erupting around her with an unspeakably sad and slightly puzzled expression.

As her wandering blue eyes came across Tamiko, she gave a smile that was beautiful and gentle. She spoke to her softly, in a voice that should not have carried across the carnage of a battlefield, but it did.

"You are the one who has been looking for me," she said. "But I don't understand why. Why do you want to do this terrible thing? Isn't there some way the two of us can come to understand one another?"

Without fear, she took a step forwards towards Tamiko.

"Stay back!" Uranus warned her, moving to block her path. "That girl is imbued with Metalia's power. She has no control over what she is doing. We must destroy her."

Tamiko let out an agonised wail and doubled over as if in pain. "Michiru!" she screamed, sobs torn from behind her lips. "Help me, please. I'm fighting it, but it's so hard."

Slipping past Uranus's restraining arm, Moon ran straight to the tormented girl and knelt down by her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. What she meant to do by this was not entirely clear; perhaps she herself had no thought other than to offer comfort. But as soon as she touched the girl's skin there was a crack like thunder and a flash like lightning that made Neptune's hair stand on end. She felt the power surging out of the girl, the darkness of it, the hatred. All of it pouring into one frail girl, their princess.

Moon almost didn't have time to cry out before she was blasted off her feet and thrown backwards, landing with a thump on the ground several feet away. Pluto was closest and hurried to her side, kneeling down and cradling her in her arms.

Neptune felt the wind stirring around her in anger, and looking at Uranus saw her focused with cold and unforgiving fury upon the hapless girl.

"It's all right," Pluto called, garnet eyes focused worriedly on the tense tableau of Neptune, Uranus and Tamiko. "The Princess is still alive." She might have wanted to help, but it wasn't an option she was given. Already the demons were converging on Pluto and the fallen Princess, and one by one all the other soldiers were forced to leave their positions to join the defensive circle around their unconscious leader.

Tamiko looked up appealingly at Uranus and Neptune. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to do that, I swear. The power just…It just reacted when she touched me. There was nothing I could do."

"That may be so," said Uranus coldly. "But if you cannot control the darkness Metalia has sown within you, that is all the less reason for us to show you mercy."

"Please," Tamkio begged. "Help me…"

Uranus glanced at Neptune, commandingly. "Neptune!"

Neptune knew what she was being asked to do. She was being called upon to fulfil her duty as a soldier. To destroy the enemy that threatened their world, their Princess.

"Michiru," she heard, Tamiko's voice a mere broken whisper.

It was a plea that Neptune couldn't ignore. Not when she thought back over the history of her own world, all the innocents caught in the cross-fire of the never-ending war between good and evil. The faces of those doomed children at Infinity Academy who grew demons beneath their skin and were not as lucky as Hotaru, for they were not immortal and could not be given another chance.

And so, begging to whatever gods might forgive one forsaken like herself, Neptune – Michiru – made her choice. She moved from her position at Uranus's side to face her partner, standing protectively in front of Tamiko.

"No, Uranus. I won't let you hurt her. Not until the Princess has at least tried to help her. She may be able to do something."

Winds tore savagely through the sky above them. "You saw what happened when the Princess touched her! She could have died!"

"The Princess was trying to help her."

"The Princess is too kind for her own good. You know that. You know that is why we exist. To do the things she can't. The things she shouldn't have to."

"Like killing children?" Neptune demanded.

Uranus's eyes flashed. "If necessary. If it will save the world."

"And what about her world?" Neptune asked softly.

Uranus looked down at Tamiko, a slight shadow of sympathy passing over her face. "If Metalia lives in her sun, then her world is as good as gone already," she murmured in a harsh voice. "You know that, Neptune. You were there the last time Metalia brought an end to the world. You and I were there, right at the very end. We saw our cities crumble and our planets wither. We saw our comrades lying dead around us. We saw the Glaive of Silence descend and cut what was left of the universe in two. That is what awaits her world now, and there is no changing it. But there is hope for this world still. Hope if you and I stand together, Neptune."

It took all of Neptune's strength not to give in. She was being offered redemption, and with every fibre of her being she longed to take it. Wanted never again to see that revilement in Uranus's gaze as she looked at her. Wanted so desperately to feel clean. But she knew she never would if she killed another innocent, even one who had likely been corrupted so far past innocence there was no bringing her back.

"I'm sorry Uranus," she whispered.

It seemed to Neptune that the very foundations of the universe shook as she raised her Mirror defensively against Uranus. This was wrong, on a cosmic level; she could feel it in her bones. Two soldiers who should always have fought side by side, facing off against each other and about to do terrible battle over the lost soul of a girl who was already as good as dead.

"Betrayer," Uranus hissed, her sword glowing hotly in her hand.

Neptune glanced at it apprehensively. "Just wait," she begged softly. "Just till the Princess wakes. There may be something she can do."

"There isn't time," said Uranus, her voice bleak. "Metalia's influence grows every moment. If we don't destroy her now, she could become too strong."

"Very well," said Neptune, and her in tone was the eternal sadness of the sea. "In that case we will fight." She transferred her Mirror to her left hand while she swept up the sword of one of their fallen enemies with her right. It felt strange in her hand. She was unaccustomed to fighting like this, and wondered briefly about the wisdom of staking her fortune upon the weapon of the Enemy. Perhaps it would bring an evil fate down upon her, but there was no time to reconsider her strategy. Uranus was already launching her attack, and instinctively, Neptune raised her stolen sword.

At the first clash of weapons, the world cracked. All around the two soldiers fissures opened in the earth, parts of the hillside breaking away and tumbling down into oblivion. Pluto and Saturn and the others, previously too busy protecting the Princess to realise what was happening, looked towards the sounds and cried out in horrified amazement at the sight that met their eyes.

Blows falling fast and furious, sparks flying into the night, faces grim and contorted with unnatural animosity, Uranus and Neptune fought each other while Tamiko cowered behind and the hill continued to shake. Jupiter and Venus ran forward as if to separate the warring couple, but Pluto pulled them back.

"No!" she exclaimed sharply. "Can't you see that in this state they'll kill anyone who gets in their way?"

"But why are they fighting?" asked Saturn, and trembling beneath her sure soldier's tone was the voice of a daughter who was frightened and confused.

Pluto frowned. "I don't know." Her eyes lingered on Tamiko, however, and with black-eyed terror Tamiko looked back at her.

The moment a gap arose, Pluto stepped into the breach, doing exactly what she had warned the others not to do. She saw it as her responsibility, perhaps, being not only the oldest but the closest friend of the fighting soldiers.

"Uranus, Neptune, why are you doing this?"

Panting hard, Uranus flicked sweat from her brow, strands of darkened hair clinging wetly to her skin. "Neptune has been secretly helping the Enemy," she spat. "For weeks she's known the girl's location and kept it from all of us. She says she will not let me harm her; that she wants to save her. But look at what this girl has done to our Princess – look at the war she has brought down upon our heads. She is too much of a risk to be saved. She must be destroyed."

"This girl is an innocent victim!" Neptune defended herself, her shrill and unsteady voice very far from her usual calm tones.

In Pluto's gaze, Neptune saw sympathy, and understanding, for what she was doing, but there was nothing of acceptance.

"Perhaps what you say is true," Pluto said quietly. "But look, Neptune, our Princess is fallen and already the others are engaged once more in battle to save her from those monsters who would gladly tear her to pieces. You take energy away from all of us with your actions. You create division where we can afford none."

"Then condemn me and leave me to my fate," said Neptune, stung by Pluto's words, and by the deep-seated fear in her own heart that she might be right.

"Your fate?" Inscrutable garnet eyes searched Neptune's face, seeming to tell her something she didn't understand. "Uranus is your fate, and always will be. But I cannot stand here any longer. Venus has fallen, and I must help the others."

A quick glance confirmed what Pluto said. Neptune saw the blonde haired girl lying on the ground, her uniform stained with blood, and could only pray that she wasn't dead.

"Do your duty, both of you," were Pluto's last murmured words before she stepped away.

Whether there was any message in that statement beyond the obvious Neptune didn't have time to contemplate. Certainly Uranus was in no doubt about what Pluto meant. She barred her teeth and, sword in hand, moved towards Neptune once again.

"Don't worry," she growled. "I haven't forgotten my duty."

And so their weapons met, and Uranus and Neptune continued to rage, all that ancient power for protecting the world turned inward upon one another. Uranus was stronger, but Neptune was craftier. In a series of teasing blow she whipped Uranus's skin with the tip of her sword, never enough to really hurt her, but just enough to enrage her. Neptune was under no illusions. She knew she couldn't win this fight. Not holding an unfamiliar sword belonging to the Enemy, not when Uranus fought with a sword that was the very extension of her soul, not when Uranus was used to doing battle like this and Neptune wasn't.

But she didn't want to win. She didn't want to hurt Uranus, not really. All that she wanted was to keep Uranus at bay, long enough for the Princess to awaken and stop this madness. If Neptune still believed in anything, it was her. She had seen her Princess performs feats of healing beyond impossible, not least upon herself. If only she would wake, she might yet be able to stop this nightmare.

Uranus's strokes grew faster, more savage. The muscles in Neptune's arm were screaming in protest but she kept up her blocks, well into defensive mode by now. When she saw an opening, Uranus didn't hesitate to take it, drawing in close and punching Neptune hard in the ribs. Neptune immediately went down, smelling the familiar, rich scent of her lover in a context she never could have imagined.

Standing over her, blood dripping from the myriad of cuts inflicted by Neptune's sword, Uranus looked down with an expression that was almost desperate. She might have asked Neptune to stand down. She might have ended the fight then and there with a final, winning blow. But she didn't do either of those things. Instead, in a tone that was somewhere between anger and confusion, she rather perversely demanded, "why are you holding back?"

Using her stolen sword as a prop, Neptune dragged herself to her feet. "Because I don't want to hurt you," she said honestly, looking into those eyes she knew so well. "I just want to protect Tamiko."

"She is beyond help."

"Maybe. But I still have to try."

"You fight with the weapon of the Enemy."

"You fight with the weapon of good, and turn it to evil purpose. Tell me, which of us is worse?"

Angered by Uranus's taunt, Neptune attacked her with renewed fury, no longer merely fighting for time. Whatever the circumstances, she was doing her best; she was trying to do with right thing, and it didn't seem fair to her that all the others, all her fellow soldiers, be allowed to stand by in judgement of her. She saw the surprise in Uranus's eyes at the sudden power of her assault, and almost began to be afraid of what she would do if she got the opportunity for a killing blow.

Around them, the exhausted senshi had at last succeeded in expelling the last of the demons. Panting, some collapsed upon the ground, others clutching injuries. They could now only watch as the elements of wind and water fought, consumed by fury.

No one noticed when Moon began to stir. Groggily the Princess sat up rubbing her eyes, and cried out when she saw Uranus and Neptune. Something in her voice attracted the cowering form of Tamiko, who raised her head to look. The Princess looked straight back.

Suddenly a change came over the girl; a terrible change. Her face contorted with hate and she let out an inhuman scream of rage. Even Uranus and Neptune paused at the sound of it. Woodenly, Tamiko got to her feet, and everyone could see her eyes blazing. Fire burned behind her eyelids, as if she was made of molten lava within, and she laughed manically as she raised her hands to the sky, fire pouring forth from her fingertips.

"Neptune!" Uranus begged. "We have to kill her!"

Looking at the horror before her, Neptune wanted to agree. But then, through the haze of smoke, she saw Saturn – Hotaru – and remembered the terrified voice of a young girl begging for help.

"No," she said, tightening her grip on her sword.

Uranus raised her own sword. "So help me, Neptune." She was almost crying. "Don't make me do this, please."

Neptune could see that Uranus was readying herself. She'd seen so many enemies fall before an onslaught like this. Streamlined death coming swift at the point of a sword from the poised and beautiful soldier. She dropped her stolen weapon. It would do her no good now. She too had her final card to play, the card of desperation.

She raised her mirror. Too late, eyes widening in horror, Uranus realised what she intended to do.

"Submarine Reflection!" Neptune cried, turning the mirror's silver wave of light onto her enemy, her lover, her friend. The woman who had meant so much to her in this lifetime and every other.

Looking back on this battle, as she was to do so many times, Neptune wondered if this was where the true betrayal had begun. Uranus, unspeakably proud, had shared with Neptune secrets she would never want any of the others to know. Her moments of uncertainty, of frailty; the moments when she couldn't be strong and tears would leak out from her storm coloured eyes. This was what Neptune showed to her that night, and to every other person present; even Tamiko. Even Metalia.

The parents who had abandoned her. The people who had teased her. The ones who had rejected her. Tormented her.

Uranus, the once proud soldier; broken. Nothing more than a tearful girl hiding in her lover's embrace.

Only the briefest glimpse, for there wasn't time to see more.

There was a battle cry that could only belong to Uranus. There was a swift rush of wind in Neptune's face and a streak of blue and silver as Uranus ran through the mirror's cruel reflection. There was a line of golden sparks lighting up the night as Uranus brought the Space Sword down, double handed, felling Neptune and bringing the fight to a close.

Neptune felt a sharp pain as the sword cut through her flesh, but not as much as she would have expected. Shock perhaps, or disbelief. Her body denying the severity of its wounds so it might live a few agonising minutes longer. She didn't remember falling but she was on the ground, hands clutching uselessly at the blood flowing steadily away. Uranus was above her, staring down as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, and Neptune wondered if Uranus had meant it, had really wanted to kill her. That thought hurt more than the gaping hole in her chest.

Just trying to breathe was becoming so painful. Neptune could feel blood flecking her lips, a sticky warmth creeping into her lungs that felt like drowning in candy floss. Well, she thought hysterically, they'd always wondered what it would take to really kill a senshi. Now maybe they were going to find out.

Imperceptibly, Uranus began to lean down towards her, tears of remorse in her eyes. Soon she would reach for her, beg forgiveness for doing this terrible thing, comfort her with gentle hands. It was bizarre, but Neptune longed for it. Longed for the same hands that had wounded her to give her comfort. The only hands that ever could.

But events did not unfold that way. The Princess was shakily regaining her feet. She saw what her soldiers had done to one another, took a step towards them intending to help. Tamiko screamed again and the fire erupted from her hands, no longer pointed at the sky but directed towards their Princess.

Uranus ran and Neptune watched as she was engulfed by flame, and wept hot, useless tears into the earth. Above them, a star winked out in the sky, the terrified cries of Tamiko's people silenced by the distance of space. And an innocent girl was torn to shreds by Metalia's hate, and Neptune knew then that she had failed upon all counts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_Tokyo, March 6, 2002_

Haruka dropped Michiru off at the house. They'd been silent the rest of the way home. There was nothing more to be said. Michiru couldn't fight and Haruka wouldn't tolerate her in that condition.

Setsuna hurried out to the driveway as soon as she heard the car pull in. She took one look at Michiru in her tattered dress with her singed hair and burn-marked skin and turned to Haruka angrily.

"What the hell were you thinking, Haruka?"

"I was thinking she could fight," Haruka drawled, eyes hooded as her hand moved restlessly over the clutch. "Obviously, I was wrong."

She was apparently oblivious to the stream of abuse that followed her as she sped off into the night, and Michiru was a little shocked to see the normally elegant Setsuna screaming after her like a fishwife.

As Haruka's tail lights disappeared round the corner, Setsuna turned to Michiru and sighed, taking in her injuries with a concerned eye. "Come on," she said gently. "Let's get you cleaned up and you can tell me what happened."

Michiru resisted, however, as Setsuna tried to lead her into the house. "Hotaru," she said. "I don't want her to see me like this."

"Don't worry, she isn't here. After that stunt at dinner, everyone went back to Usagi's house to discuss the, er, situation."

"Speculate on whether Haruka and I would get back together again, you mean," Michiru translated wryly.

"Something like that," Setsuna agreed.

"And you?"

"I thought I'd better hold down the fort. In case of an emergency."

"Does this count as an emergency?"

Setsuna gave Michiru one of those inscrutable looks that she was still so annoyingly good at. "The emergency hasn't stopped since you went away."

Together, they went into the house and stepped into the concealed elevator that would take them down to the laboratory underneath. Setsuna had installed it not long after the war with Galaxia, installed rather than built because one day it wasn't there and the next day it was. The lab was hidden within another dimension, much like Professor Tamoe's facility had once been, which was probably where Setsuna had gotten the idea. When she'd first shown it to everyone, she explained that it would be the perfect location to analyse enemy samples, carry out experiments and treat battle-related injuries. In a way, its creation symbolised the recognition that all of them were growing up, becoming more accepting of their identities and their destinies. They knew that sooner or later another war would find them, and that a place like this could well be needed. It was part of an ongoing transformation that made them look more like an army and less like a bunch of teenage girls.

Part of the lab was set up as an infirmary, and Michiru still hated to remember those three and a half months she'd spent down here after the Battle of the Hill. Day after day she'd just lain in her bed in pain while Ami and Setsuna tried unsuccessfully to make her wound heal. Haruka lay unconscious in the next bed over, skin covered in bandages, breathing with the help of life support. The machine's quiet steady beep had been the solitary thin thread of sanity to which Michiru clung during those months, each precious breath echoing the anxious beating of her own heart. Usagi came regularly and used the Silver Crystal on both of them, which was probably the only reason neither of them died.

The day Haruka awakened and was well enough to have some of her bandages removed was perhaps the best and worst day of Michiru's life. Haruka still wouldn't talk to Michiru, or even look at her. When Michiru tried to touch her, she flinched away, just as she had in the aftermath of the battle. As soon as she could she left the infirmary and moved back upstairs, and after that Michiru was alone. All she had was her pain and her thoughts and her guilt. The knowledge that Haruka's injuries – that everyone's injuries – were in part her fault because she hadn't fallen into line when Uranus and Pluto demanded it of her. She'd failed in her first duty as a soldier – to protect the Princess. And it had nearly cost all of them their lives. She wasn't even surprised when her wound continued to trouble her, healing as a long, ugly scar that rarely stopped hurting. It was no more than she deserved, considering her actions.

Michiru was returned to the present by Setsuna placing a hand on her shoulder. The past faded away, and Michiru was in a white walled room with half a dozen empty beds.

"The bathrooms are through there," Setsuna advised her, as if she would have forgotten. "Go and have a shower, and I'll prepare something for your burns. You'll find towels and robes in the locker room."

Nodding dutifully, Michiru followed instructions and went to have her shower. The pain in her chest was fading, but her heart was beating nervously. She knew that Setsuna was going to ask her to de-robe so that she could examine her, and then she would see the scar. Michiru had never told her, or anyone, that it hadn't fully healed.

After her shower, Michiru re-entered the infirmary dressed in a white robe to find Setsuna wearing a pair of surgical gloves and unscrewing the top from a large jar of ointment. Michiru recognised it as the formula to help cure burns that Setsuna and Ami had invented together; almost a necessity considering their ongoing war against Metalia's overwhelmingly fiery minions.

"Are you okay to take the robe off?" asked Setsuna. "It will be easier to check you over that way."

"Setsuna, there's something I have to tell you."

Hearing the serious tone of Michiru's voice, Setsuna looked up at her with concern creeping into her eyes. "What is it?"

Michiru tried, but she couldn't find the words. She opened her mouth, closed it again, attempted to start over and failed. Finally she just undid the tie of her robe and let it drop to her feet, standing before Setsuna in nothing but a pair of underpants.

Unmistakably, Setsuna's gaze was drawn to the long, ugly scar on Michiru's chest. "Michiru," she whispered, "is that…"

"It's the scar from Haruka's Space Sword," Michiru confirmed in a dead voice.

Biting her lip, Setsuna placed the jar of burns cream down on a nearby bench. She reached out a hand before stopping, eyes flicking up to Michiru's face.

"…May I?"

"If you must."

Gentle fingers probed her. Michiru tensed as she felt the pain, but kept her face blank from long practice.

"I had no idea," said Setsuna. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I didn't see the point. I was very nearly mortally wounded with a mystical weapon, and there is no treatment that can undo what was done to me. That's why I fought so badly tonight. It still hurts. It hurt tonight far more than I expected. Almost as if it was reacting to the proximity of the sword."

Her expression grim, Setsuna picked up the burns cream again and began lathering it onto Michiru's skin; hands, arms, stomach, back, legs. Apparently the fire demons had done more damage than Michiru realised.

"You have to tell Haruka," said Setsuna. She gave Michiru a final inspection before indicating that she could resume her robe.

"No." Michiru's reply was sharp and decisive.

"Why not?"

"Because if she knows that I might never be able to fight properly again, she won't let me work with her. She has to believe I can improve."

Peeling off her gloves, Setsuna sighed. Michiru pulled her robe tightly about herself, feeling suddenly more vulnerable than when she was naked.

As obvious as it probably was that Michiru wanted to restore some of the bond she used to share with Haruka, it wasn't a subject she had yet broached directly with anyone, and she wasn't sure she was ready to do it now, either.

But what Setsuna said next surprised her.

"This is all my fault," the senshi of time stated quietly.

"Your fault? How so?"

"If I'd handled the situation better on the battlefield, it might not have come to this. I shouldn't have taken sides. I shouldn't have made Haruka feel she was justified in what she did."

"But she was justified," Michiru pointed out. "That's what makes it so difficult. That girl was too much of a risk, and she did go bad. She tried to kill the Princess and she nearly killed Haruka. Haruka was the one who paid for my mistake."

"Yet now she's fully healed and you're not. If someone's still paying here, it isn't her."

"What else can I do, Setsuna?" Tears were forming in Michiru's eyes, much to her embarrassment. "I know she won't forgive me."

Setsuna gave Michiru a considering look. "Did you know that Haruka's sword never relinquished your blood?"

"What?"

"After the battle, I was the one who collected your talismans. The mirror and the sword. Your blood was still on the Space Sword, and even though I tried to clean it off, it wouldn't go. It was like it had somehow gotten under the surface of the metal, and slowly, over about a month, the sword absorbed the blood into itself."

"But that's crazy," said Michiru, seriously shaken. "The sword's never done anything like that before, has it?"

"Not that I know of. But we still don't understand everything about our talismans and how they work. It could certainly explain why your body reacted to the sword, though."

"Does Haruka know?"

"I don't think so. I never told her."

"Why would the sword do something like that? What possible benefit could it have?"

"Maybe it was reacting to some unconscious desire on Haruka's part. Maybe it happened because whether she wants to admit it or not, Haruka can't let you go."

Michiru shook her head. "This is all very strange. I don't know what to make of it."

"Well, at any rate, this won't excuse Haruka from working with you. She's been ordered to do so by the Princess, and the Princess will find a way to make her comply."

"Oh, I'm sure she will," Michiru murmured, a little acidly.

"There's nothing going on between Haruka and Usagi," said Setsuna. Her voice was half soothing and half amused. "Usagi loves Mamoru just like she always has, and Haruka…"

"Yes, and Haruka?"

"Haruka's just confused."

"I've heard that before," said Michiru dryly.

"Look, Michiru, I won't tell Haruka about any of this if you don't want me to, but Usagi has to know. Haruka can't be allowed to go on treating you as she did tonight, and Usagi is the only one Haruka listens to these days."

"But what if I'm really no good, Setsuna? What if I can't ever fight again?"

"For once, I have no idea what the future holds, but I've been here to see the past two and a half years. As a fighting force, we've been failing. We've let ourselves become fractured, and that's as much our fault for rejecting you as it is yours for sheltering an Enemy. We need you, Michiru. We need to find a way to make ourselves whole again. And that is up to all of us, not just you."

"I just wish everything could go back to the way it was, when we were all a family. I miss those days."

Setsuna smiled sadly. "Me too," she said.

* * *

Usagi found herself standing on a windswept cliff high above the ocean. In the distance, she could see a city lighting up the darkness, and guessed she must be looking at Tokyo. Parked on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the sea, was a familiar yellow convertible.

She approached, and was soon close enough to make out a figure lying sprawled on the hood of the car, staring up at the sky. Sensing someone was nearby, the figure sat up sharply and looked quickly in her direction.

"It's only me, Haruka," Usagi said, continuing to move cautiously towards her most difficult soldier.

Haruka slithered off the hood of her car, crossing her arms and leaning back against the bumper bar. "I don't know what I should ask," she commented. "How did you get here, or how did you find me."

"I got a call from Setsuna." Joining Haruka, Usagi took a moment to admire the view, thinking how best to broach the subject at hand. She didn't want Haruka to just shut down on her; aside from anything else, none of them had the time for it. "She told me the fight against the Sparklers didn't go well. She thought you might need someone to talk to."

This statement was met with a quizzical gaze. "That isn't an answer."

"I thought about wanting to find you, and I got here. That's all."

"That's all? You always make the most complicated things sound so simple."

"Haruka. Just tell me what happened."

"Michiru screwed up," Haruka bit out shortly. "She couldn't fight properly. I don't want to work with her anymore."

"You don't have the option of not working with her. You're going to have to find a way to make it work."

In the moonlight, Usagi could see the tense line of Haruka's shoulders. She wasn't happy about being told what to do, especially in regards to this. Usagi could almost sense her will straining against the orders she'd been given.

Finally, she said gruffly, "I wish you'd never recalled her, Princess. She'll just mess everything up again."

"Everything's in a mess already," said Usagi. "Bringing Michiru back is supposed to fix things."

"Just like that?"

"No, not just like that, but you could try putting some effort in."

Haruka's frown was thunderous. "I can't trust her anymore. If she behaved like that once, she could again."

Usagi could feel her patience wearing thin. She knew Michiru's actions that night on the Hill had devastated Haruka. She could hardly not know given that it had torn her soldiers apart, but she could no longer indulge Haruka's childish selfishness when the entire fate of the world was most likely at stake.

"Michiru was only trying to protect an innocent girl," she pointed out. "If I'd been there, I would have supported her."

"If Michiru was so good and righteous, why didn't you protect her from us?" came the immediate counter. "Why did you let us exile her? You could have saved her, but you didn't. That's not exactly a ringing vote of confidence."

"Because," Usagi said softly. "I was afraid for her. You were all so angry that I was worried about what would happen to her if she stayed. I thought she might just end up getting even more hurt and feeling worse about what she'd done if you all kept reminding her of it and hating her. Besides, in those days I didn't want to be the leader. Not in the sense of giving orders and having them followed and overriding everyone else. So I went with what the majority wanted. But I think now that was a mistake, and I've realised that sometimes, whether I want it or not, I do have to be the one who makes the calls. And I'm prepared to make one of those calls now, if you keep refusing to cooperate."

Usagi finished with an ominous edge to her voice that was not lost upon Haruka. She felt a rather perverse glow of pride when those smoky blue eyes glanced towards her with trepidation showing in their depths. It had taken a long time and a lot of pain before she'd won the right to have Haruka take her seriously like that.

"What will you do to me?"

"Send you away, for the good of harmony within the ranks."

"You can't send me away, I'm your strongest fighter."

"Actually Saturn is my strongest fighter. She can't use the full extent of her powers like you can, but even so…Now that I have Neptune back, I'm quite prepared to see if she can do any better than you have these last two years. If you won't fight with her, she can take your place."

Rebellious eyes flashed at Usagi in the night, but her words had the desired effect. She could feel Haruka's stubborn will wavering. It would wound her honour to be sent away, to have Neptune possibly succeed in her absence in the war against Metalia. And then also, she wouldn't be around to protect the Princess as she believed only she could.

The grinding of teeth was almost audible. "Fine," Haruka spat gracelessly. "I'll try again."

"Good. And treat Neptune with respect from now on. You trust me, and I trust her. If you really do have faith in me, you have to believe I know what I'm doing."

"You know I trust you, Usagi, it's just…"

"She hurt you."

"No, she hurt _you_. She nearly got you killed."

Having been down this road of denial before with Haruka, Usagi gave up on that conversation before it got both of them sidetracked. "There is one more thing," she said.

Haruka looked at her inquiringly. "Yes?"

"You can't use the Space Sword when you fight with Michiru."

"What? Why not."

"Because it hurts her. That's why she fought so badly tonight."

"What do you mean it hurts her?" Haruka's tone was belligerent.

"I mean it causes her physical pain when you use it in her presence. She feels an echo of whatever you do to your enemies."

There was a lot about the sword Usagi deliberately left out. She didn't explain about the blood and Michiru's scar; she sensed that was too personal for her to get involved with. But she did want Haruka to be absolutely clear on why she couldn't use the sword. The sky senshi had to realise at least something of what Michiru was going through, and learn to be a bit more considerate.

Usagi felt more than saw Haruka's reaction. Dismay began to radiate from her as she thought back over the evening, reassessing her own callous behaviour in light of the new knowledge of Michiru's condition.

"I had…no idea," she said haltingly.

"No, neither did Michiru. Not until it happened."

"But that's…Why would the sword do that?"

"I don't know. Setsuna is looking into it."

Haruka sighed. With relief, Usagi recognised it as the sound that signalled surrender. "All right. I won't use the sword until Setsuna figures out what's going on. Obviously I don't want to be hurting Michiru every time we fight."

A short silence settled, filled with the muffled booming of the waves. Usagi waited, knowing Haruka was going to speak.

"I never wanted that girl to die, Usagi."

"I know that, Haruka."

"But it was a choice between her life and yours, and I couldn't lose you."

"Michiru might have been right," countered Usagi. "The Silver Crystal might have been able to restore Tamiko to herself. It might have been able to save her planet."

"You never would have gotten close enough to use it. The very sight of you was what awakened the evil of Metalia."

"I wasn't prepared. If I'd been ready…"

Haruka thumped her knee in frustration. "I'm so sick of going over this. There's a thousand ways things might have unfolded differently, but they didn't. I wanted to destroy the girl, Michiru disagreed, the two of us fought and I nearly killed her. I have to live with that, as much as she has to live with the repercussions of protecting Tamiko."

It was almost more than Usagi could bear to hear the deep and terrible sadness that tinged Haruka's tone; the resigned hopelessness in her voice. She'd given up believing that things could ever be any better than this, and Usagi would have made the moon itself turn backwards in the sky if she thought it could give hope back to her. But there was only one thing she could try.

"Haruka," she said, glad of the darkness that hid her rising blush, "There's something I want to show you. I've never shown it to anyone before, and it's kinda embarrassing, but maybe it will remind you of…how things could be."

She took an envelope out of her pocket and handed it to the curious Haruka. "Be careful, it's full of rose petals."

Gingerly, Haruka opened the flap of the envelope, shielding it with her hand to stop the petals escaping. The scent of roses surrounded them, sweet and faded like a book of old photographs. Usagi could tell that Haruka remembered that scent. Her voice was husky when she spoke.

"The roses that used to fall…When Michiru and I fought together. It's been a long time since I've known that scent. I'd almost forgotten…"

"I collected those after a fight," said Usagi, still slightly pink at the memory. "One of the daimon battles, early on. I somehow thought it would help me understand you better. And also…I admired Uranus and Neptune, even then. Your abilities, your commitment, your loyalty to one another. I wanted so much to be like you."

Her expression growing stony, Haruka tipped the envelope upside down. Usagi cried out in dismay as the brittle petals were swept up by the wind, soaring out over the cliff edge to fall into the swelling sea foam far below.

Haruka returned the empty envelope to her. It still smelt of rose petals. "Those days are gone, Princess," she said in a regretful voice. "And they're not coming back. Don't dream of what isn't possible."

"You still love her, Haruka."

"No, I don't." In a move that was almost violent in its suddenness Haruka turned to Usagi, cupping her cheek in her hand. Her fingers were firm and knowing against Usagi's skin, radiating heat and an almost arrogant promise of sensuality. Intense blue eyes searched her face from beneath straw coloured bangs. "I love _you_," Haruka proclaimed. "I know you don't return my feelings, I know you don't want to be with me, but I don't mind. I just want to be near you. That's all. That's enough."

Usagi swallowed, surprise freezing her limbs. This was the first time Haruka had ever been so direct with her. Always plenty of innuendo and flirting, but never an avowal of love. Her heart was beating hard just at the passionate sincerity of her touch, her piercing gaze.

No wonder women fell for Haruka like flies.

Yet somehow, Usagi still didn't think it was real. It wasn't a coincidence that this declaration had come now, hard on the heels of Michiru's return. All that she was seeing was Haruka furnishing herself with more armour against the feelings she wouldn't allow herself to have for Michiru.

Covering Haruka's hand with her own, Usagi felt tears of compassion gather in the corners of her eyes. Haruka started at the gesture, and maybe at the sight of Usagi's tears glinting in the moonlight. Her sure touch faltered and she began to tremble, burying her face in Usagi's shoulder as the mask of her reserve cracked. Then she cried, in great choking sobs that shook her whole body, and Usagi comforted her as best she could.


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone! Merry Christmas & Happy New Year! Despite being short this chapter was immensely troublesome to write. True to form, Haruka proved herself extremely uncooperative, and the whole thing had to be done several times over. But Chapter Eight is already underway, so hopefully there won't be such a long delay next time.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

It probably wasn't allowed, but two days later Haruka went to hear the Tokyo Symphony rehearse. Stealth made it easy for her to gain access to the practice hall, and for the final hour she stood listening; concealed but still positioned so she had a clear view of Michiru.

Her once partner showed no evidence of injury from their recent encounter with the Sparklers. She appeared calm and poised and intently focused, her bow moving effortlessly over the strings as her fingers flew. It was the Glorification of the Chosen One they were playing, from the Rite of Spring. The violins were wailing and the timpani beat out a savage rhythm that echoed in Haruka's head.

Sacrifice. Why did it always have to be about bloody sacrifice?

The primitive story of a young girl who danced to death for the good of her people, giving her life energy to the earth so that spring might come again. And who was the Chosen One Michiru thought of as she played? Tamiko? Hotaru? Usagi?

There were too many dead girls in Haruka's world.

It was easy to pick out the sound of Michiru's violin, soaring above the cacophony of the orchestra. But her playing didn't sound the same to Haruka anymore. Michiru had improved technically, there was no doubt about that, but there was something disconnected in her music now, as if it no longer reached her soul.

Couldn't the others hear it? Couldn't Michiru herself hear it?

Perhaps not. Michiru had been made lead violin, after all, despite the fact that she was one of the youngest musicians on stage. Haruka couldn't help but feel a small glow of pride at her accomplishment. It had always been a dream of hers to join the Tokyo Symphony.

Waving her hands, the conductor called a stop to the orchestra and began to lecture them on some point. Michiru sat neatly with her violin on her lap, head cocked, listening closely. Her waist length hair was tied back in a braid, and there was something about the look of that braid that Haruka didn't like. It was too restrained, too unlike Michiru.

The length of Michiru's hair had been a shock to Haruka when she first saw it. She hadn't even realised at the restaurant just how much longer it was. Not until Michiru transformed in the car did her hair flow free, fanning out in the slipstream behind them as wild and tangled as a mermaid's. Haruka had felt Michiru's happiness in that moment, and her power. She'd gripped the steering wheel just a little bit tighter to suppress any other reaction, because the sight of Michiru as Neptune again was so heartbreakingly beautiful.

The orchestra's practice came to a close. The musicians packed up their instruments and said goodbye to each other, and Haruka left her observation post to keep the appointment she had privately decided to set.

She caught up with Michiru several blocks away from the practice hall, deliberately waiting until any stray members of the orchestra had dispersed. Michiru turned with guarded eyes when Haruka called her name. Her hands were full of too many things – violin case, music folders, handbag, and the sight of Haruka seemed to catch her off balance. Inexorably, the folders began to slip, Michiru's attempt to hoist them more securely against her hip doing little to stop their progress.

Reaching her in two quick strides, Haruka caught the folders as they were about to fall. And then, since she didn't quite know what to say (how do you apologise for nearly killing someone?), they just stood there in the street and looked at each other, with Haruka's hands still on the folders that Michiru precariously held. Inspired by the folders perhaps, Michiru's handbag next made a bid for freedom, slipping from her shoulder to slither down and catch on the fist that held the handle of her violin case. Both of them watched its progress.

"Maybe I could take something?" Haruka offered.

Michiru replied quietly in a voice of cold fury. "That won't be necessary." In a move that utterly shocked Haruka, she let go of her violin case, allowing it to clatter to the ground. With one hand now free, she was able to regain mastery over the wayward folders and get her handbag back over her shoulder where it was meant to be. Only then did she reach down to pick up her violin.

As soon as she had it, she started walking again as if Haruka wasn't there.

Haruka frowned and went after her. "You dropped your violin," she pointed out, easily keeping pace even though Michiru was hurrying.

"So?"

"I've never seen you do that before."

"The case is well padded; the violin will be fine." Michiru sounded distinctly annoyed.

"Look, Michiru, can we go somewhere and talk?"

At this, Michiru finally stopped. "What about?"

"About…This."

Michiru raised one savagely elegant eyebrow. "This? Exactly what this are you referring to?"

"Us. Working together again."

"I thought you didn't want to work with me."

"I've been given orders."

"I see."

It was slight, so slight no one else would have caught it, but Haruka heard the change of tone when Michiru said those two little words. She suddenly sounded as fragile as glass about to shatter, and her eyes…even beneath her stubbornly lowered lids Haruka caught a glimmer of pain.

Haruka suddenly wished she could explain that it wasn't only because of the orders that she wanted to work with Michiru again. She wanted to tell her that she'd missed her, that fighting without her never felt the same, that no one else in the world could read her and match her the way Michiru could.

But she didn't say anything at all, because she hadn't even realised how much she felt like this until the words were already threatening to slide off her tongue. In dismay, she clamped her mouth and kept it shut, fearing what other insanity might come out if she started.

Michiru finally looked up. Her brilliant sea-blue eyes were filled with secrets she wouldn't let Haruka see. Those eyes had been Haruka's world, once. But…this Michiru had dropped her violin. The woman Haruka used to know never would have done that, and she suddenly wasn't sure she knew anything at all about the person standing before her.

The street around them was filling with people as night encroached; weary workers heading for home, sweethearts holding hands, groups of friends intent on merriment and drinking. Next came the city lights to chase away the darkness, but it didn't shift the shadow in Haruka's heart. She was remembering the recent fight, and what Usagi had told her about the Space Sword hurting Michiru. Was that really true? Why hadn't Michiru said anything to her? Was it her soldier's pride, or was it just simply that she thought Haruka wouldn't care enough to stop?

God, the sight of her afterwards lying crumpled on the battlefield; it was too much like that other time.

Haruka didn't want to be reminded that her hands were still covered in Michiru's blood and there was nothing she could ever do to change that. She didn't want to be reminded of the betrayal that had forced her to do it, or the way she had seen herself that night through Michiru's eyes.

Normally, she was angry, and that was good because it stopped her thinking. But she couldn't be angry now, not after Usagi's revelations. She owed Michiru so many sorrys, more than she could ever say in a lifetime, but she was never going to say them. Because if she did that, if she placed her own personal feelings above the need to protect the Princess, then she would no longer be worthy of her identity as Sailor Uranus.

"All right then," Michiru said reluctantly, almost as if the words had to be painfully dragged out of her. "If it's work, I guess we can't avoid it."

The café they went to was expensive and mostly empty. Haruka ordered black coffee. Michiru ordered green tea. As they waited for their drinks in the dimly lit booth, Michiru didn't look at Haruka. She went through her music folders one by one, as if to check they were all there.

The discordant clatter of the violin case was still ringing in Haruka's ears.

"Don't you want to check your violin?" she asked.

Michiru shrugged. "I'm sure it's fine. You can check it if you want."

Upon opening the case Haruka discovered that the instrument was indeed fine, but that didn't reduce the wrongness of the scene she had witnessed. Michiru loved her violin as an extension of herself – how could she treat it with such casual abuse?

"You're lucky," she said, snapping the case shut and stowing the violin under the table. "But you should be more careful. Next time—"

"We didn't come here to talk about my violin." Michiru cut her off in a voice as flat as the Nullarbor Plain. "We came here to talk about work. So please can you get on with it?"

Annoyed at Michiru's continued antagonism (but, oh, what else could she expect?), Haruka responded by becoming frostily polite. "I wanted to discuss the matter of developing a training schedule. It's clear from our encounter with the Sparklers that we don't work together as well as we used to. That situation is going to have to improve."

"You didn't need to see me for that. You could have called me on the phone."

Haruka's eyes hardened. "I'm beginning to wish I had. But unfortunately we'll have to see each other if we're going to fight together."

"Yes," said Michiru, her tone biting, "I suppose it will take you some time to get used to the affront of my presence."

"If that's the case, then it's entirely your own fault."

This feeling – this hot anger building in her blood – was much more familiar to Haruka than her earlier contrition, and she welcomed it because it swept everything else away. No more guilt or remorse, no more apologies waiting unsaid upon her lips. She looked over at Michiru haughtily, and with a callous disrespect for her abilities.

Michiru's shoulders tensed. Haruka's own hands started to itch with the desire to ball into fists. Underneath, part of her was frightened at how easily this aggression was flaring between them, but mostly she just wanted to fight.

Providently, their drinks arrived just then, and the tension eased a little with the distraction of the waiter. When he left, Haruka grabbed her coffee cup and glowered into its black depths, trying to regain a measure of control. Michiru was fussing with her tea, still steely but no longer furious.

She was wearing perfume, a scent Haruka didn't recognise. It wafted over her with dangerous sensuality, sharp ginger and a deeper note of musk, stirring unwanted memories of velvet skin shivering beneath her lips.

In desperation Haruka gulped her coffee down, letting the bitter taste rest on her tongue to erase that remembered sweetness.

"We should get this planning done," Michiru said, sounding weary.

The empty coffee cup clattered as Haruka returned it to its saucer. "Yeah okay," she sighed.

* * *

Several hours later, Haruka regarded a packed shopping bag with an expression that hovered between wariness and distaste. She was back in the living room of her own apartment, contemplating what madness had possessed her to go out and buy every one of Michiru's CDs released in the last two years.

After Michiru had left Tokyo Haruka had stopped following her music, as decisively as she might have given up smoking. But after the meeting in the café, after hearing Michiru play and seeing how she treated her violin, Haruka's curiosity had gotten the better of her. On the way home she'd visited the music store, and _this _was the result.

The CD player opened with a smug snick, as if it had always known this day was coming. Randomly Haruka chose a CD and shoved it in, still not quite believing what she was doing. Something grand and operatic blared out, but the brash overture was soon eclipsed by the sure notes of the violin. It was a complicated solo, going on and on into ever greater heights of technical genius, but it seemed to Haruka that at its centre the music was dead.

She stopped that disk, and tried another. All of them were the same. Just like the playing she'd heard today. The joy felt forced, the pain felt ugly, and the brilliance was cold. Michiru's music had definitely lost something, some integrity, some passion, that had always lain at its heart before.

If only Haruka could pretend she didn't know the reason why.

As the final note of the last recording faded away, an uneasy wind stirred the budding branches of the cherry trees on the street outside. So this was what losing her soldier's honour had done to Michiru. Hollowed her out and left her empty. Could she be brought back from that, now she was active again? Was it even Haruka's responsibility to try?

Something stirred in Haruka's chest, a monstrous grief she could hardly contain. What help could she give, when she herself was little better than a fallen soldier struggling against the downward tide of despair? Only death in the end could release her, but it was not a soldier's fate to die easily. Her eyes fell on the training schedule she and Michiru had put together finally, after many arguments and timetable clashes. They'd be seeing each other again in two days time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_Vienna, December 24, 1999_

It was his apartment because Michiru didn't want it to be hers. She knew she was going to sleep with him, and in part she hated herself for succumbing so easily, but the rest of her was too desperate to care. This pain and loneliness was driving her mad, and she knew if it went on for much longer she wouldn't be able to keep on bearing it. Maybe, she thought with a dark inward smile, things would be better that way, but for reasons she couldn't entirely fathom, it wasn't the option she had chosen.

In his bed, he kissed her and told her she was beautiful. He said he didn't mind that she used to be a lesbian, as if this was a matter of concern. He mouthed her neck, breathed hoarsely into her ear, pressed his hips to her thigh so she couldn't fail to feel the hardened length in his pants.

"You've never been with a man before, have you?" he whispered.

Michiru fought to contain rising irritation and faint disgust. "That's not the point; I'm not exactly a virgin anymore."

His tone was immediately speculative. "Really? How did—"

"That's none of your business!"

"No, you're right. Sorry."

An awkward silence descended. With some effort Michiru broke it. "There's something else," she admitted. She deliberately didn't look at him, focusing her gaze on a freckle she could see on his bare shoulder. "Something that you can't tell anyone. I have a scar on my chest. It's from a wound that didn't heal properly."

She didn't wait for him to say anything, didn't even look at his face to see his reaction. Sitting up, she removed her blouse and then her bra, allowing the long, ugly wound to be revealed. It was her mark of shame, and even though he didn't understand what it meant just having his pitying eyes on it was enough to make her feel like it was raw and throbbing all over again.

His eyes finally flicked up to her face. "How did you get this?" he asked.

"In the helicopter crash."

That was the cover story they'd made up to account for their injuries after the Battle. Haruka wouldn't hear of it being a car crash, so a helicopter it was.

"I remember," he said. "Your ex-partner was badly burned, wasn't she?"

"Yes."

"Did she recover?"

"I think so."

"Does she have scars like yours?"

"I don't know."

"Who was flying it – you or her?"

"Does it matter?"

"If I was with someone who crashed a helicopter and nearly killed me I'd be angry."

"We didn't break up over the crash. It was something else."

"What was it?"

"I betrayed her. I betrayed all of them."

"You cheated?"

"No, something else. It doesn't matter now."

He drew her back down beside him, trying to stroke the stiffness from her limbs, but his fingers burned as they ran down the scar and she flinched away. "Don't touch it, it hurts."

"Okay, okay," he said gently, moving his hand to her hair. "Let me kiss you instead, hmm?"

Michiru nodded and closed her eyes. The taste of his mouth was bitter, like cigarettes. She felt the hope of salvation slipping further beyond her grasp, but the pain in her chest was so great she couldn't care very much.

* * *

_Tokyo, March 11, 2002_

Haruka and Michiru's first training session took place in the grounds of The Mansion. Here was yet more evidence of the consolidation of the senshi's power which had occurred in Michiru's absence. Setsuna and Haruka had bought The Mansion between them about a year ago, with the intention that it could be used as required by all of the Sailor Soldiers.

It was located in one of the richest parts of Tokyo, behind a high fence with private grounds that extended all around it for several acres. As Haruka explained, it could be a home for anyone who might need it, a place of retreat, or a base from which to plan and launch attacks. There was a medical wing and a library that Luna and Artemis were filling with as many reference texts as they could find. Indoors there was a gym the size of an aeroplane hangar and a pool that impressed even Michiru. Outdoors in the grounds there was room to practice in Sailor form without fear of being interrupted.

As they warmed up in the afternoon sunshine, Michiru thought with a wry kind of amusement how different this was from the long ago training sessions she and Haruka used to share just after Haruka's awakening. It had been just the two of them back then, alone against the world, armed with powers they didn't fully understand and the burdensome knowledge of a mission that would end in murder. Mostly they'd trained together in city parks at night to prevent discovery.

Haruka must have noticed something in her expression. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing. I was just thinking about the past."

"Indeed." Haruka's voice was as dry as a desert. "We should transform now."

"Right."

After nearly three years of being stripped of her powers, Michiru's restored ability to transform was still a privilege, and she loved the rush of power and adrenaline that stormed through her veins as she held her Pen aloft and claimed her birthright.

Likewise transformed, Haruka was facing her in a defensive stance. Michiru examined that timeless, beautiful face, concentrating on the subtle differences that marked the woman before her as the Soldier Uranus. The pierced ears with their earrings, the glossy pink of her lips, the tight decorative choker that Haruka would never have worn.

Yet somehow, she couldn't quite complete the mental change that should have allowed her to stop seeing Haruka when she looked at Uranus, any more than she could suppress Michiru and allow Neptune her rightful control.

She wondered uneasily if this was some kind of indication of her ongoing failure to reclaim her honour.

Haruka, meanwhile, was observing her impassively. "Your stance is sloppy."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise. Fix it."

Clearing her mind, Michiru let her body remember what it had once known so well. She felt her spine straightening, her defences tightening, her feet planting themselves more firmly upon the earth. Her body became light as she found her balance. Her chest was hardly bothering her at all.

There was no praise forthcoming, but at least Haruka's eyes flickered approvingly.

"We'll start with a refresher on the Sparklers, since we encountered them recently. You already know it's better to avoid direct engagement if possible. But if it does happen, there's a few more things we've learned about their typical fighting techniques over the last couple of years—"

Haruka instructed, Michiru listened. The physical contact between them was kept scrupulously impersonal, but even so Michiru found her blood quickening at Haruka's touch. Haruka gave no sign that she noticed.

The Sparklers, according to Haruka's testimony as well Michiru's remembrance, were fast and quick, and smart and dirty in their tactics. Michiru could keep up at first, but it wasn't long before the old pain was back in her chest and she went down immediately when she failed to block one of Haruka's kicks that landed squarely on her ribs.

"You can do better than that."

Through the haze of pain, Michiru could hardly tell whether Haruka's voice was mocking or encouraging her. But there was an unmistakable softening of tone in next words she spoke.

"After all, you're the one who taught me, remember?"

That slight warmth was enough to give Michiru the strength she needed. Laboriously, she climbed to her feet and met Haruka's eyes. "I remember."

"You're weak in your chest," Haruka commented. "Why?"

Michiru felt herself flush. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

No. Michiru couldn't tell her. Couldn't stand for Haruka to know that she still bore the mark of her hatred. Feared that Haruka would no longer want her when she knew of Michiru's imperfection. It must be obvious, surely, what was making Michiru weak, but she wasn't prepared to speak of it. That would make it too real.

"Forget it," she insisted. "I'm fine."

"We should take a break," said Haruka, regarding her doubtfully. Not believing in her strength.

The lack of trust was like the sword going into her chest again.

"Uranus—"

Haruka forestalled argument by sitting down on the sun warmed grass and sipping from a bottle of water. She contemplated the pleasant aspect of the grounds around them through half closed eyes, as if Michiru wasn't even there.

With an irritated sigh, Michiru sat down beside her and opened her own water. Cherry blossom drifted down from nearby branches, and the lawns seemed to go on forever, green and rolling like the Downs Michiru had seen once in England. The Mansion was sitting stately in the distance, like a promise of home that could never be reached.

Her chest was still hurting, and to take her mind off it Michiru asked a question.

"Haven't you ever considered taking the fight to Metalia?"

"Of course we have," Haruka replied, without looking at her. "We've assaulted her world twice, and both times it went badly. On the first mission, Mars nearly got killed; the second time, it was Mercury. The risks are just too great."

"What is her world like?"

"She's taken over the sun in a solar system called the Shining Spiral. It had ten planets altogether, but only two were capable of supporting life – Roshana and Adara. As you know, Metalia destroyed Roshana when Tamiko failed to kill Sailor Moon. As for Adara, it's very much like Earth, though more technologically advanced. Its people are completely enslaved. They tried to resist at first, but Metalia was just too powerful. A few are still trying to work against her in secret but they can't do much.

"Metalia lives inside the solar system's sun. She isn't an incorporeal being anymore. I caught a glimpse of her on the second mission – she wears the form of a woman now, with pale skin, golden eyes and hair of fire. She has built a palace that somehow exists within the sun itself. Setsuna gave us all some complicated explanation about energy shields and forcefields, but I wasn't really listening. We think being there allows Metalia to draw power and energy from the sun that she passes on to her warriors."

"Do you know what her ultimate object is?"

Haruka shrugged helplessly. "We've been getting vague portents for months that something big is coming. She might be planning a take-over of the Earth, even the whole solar system, but if so it's strange that she hasn't yet launched a full scale attack. We know she has a vast army at her disposal, one that could easily overwhelm us. Certainly the attacks have become more violent and frequent recently, but not enough to constitute a really serious threat."

"What about Rei? Hasn't she been able to use her spiritual powers to detect anything?"

"No. Metalia seems to be able to block our attempts. Maybe now you're here, you'll be able to see something in the Mirror."

They both glanced at the Mirror, where it lay face down beside Michiru. Michiru hadn't used it all session, any more than Haruka had used her Space Swrord. Feeling her cheeks heat a second time, Michiru placed a hand on top of it. "Later. When I'm alone."

"Very well. We should finish for today."

"No. If you're right and something's coming, I want to be ready."

"We've done enough for one day."

"I can do more."

For the first time since they'd met that afternoon, Haruka looked at her properly. "I know that Neptune. But we're done for today. Go home."

Clearly dismissing her, Haruka rose to her feet. Michiru scrambled up after her, suddenly angry and (she admitted to herself) irritated by this studied indifference. She almost wished Haruka would be as she had the night when they faced the Sparklers, full of fire and rage and challenge. At least that would be a reaction.

"Haruka!"

This was greeted with a half-turn. "Don't call me that when we're in our senshi form. My correct title is Uranus."

"Damn it, don't lecture me on senshi etiquette!" Michiru ground her teeth. She was trying to stop herself, but she knew she was on the verge of taking this conversation places where neither of them were ready to go. Her brain was screaming a warning, but her chest was hurting too much, and so was her heart.

"I didn't love him."

"What?" It was subtle, but Michiru noticed the stiffening of Haruka's posture.

"The man I was with in Vienna. I know you know about him. But I didn't love him, and he isn't in my life anymore. I was only with him because…Because I hated myself and I was afraid of being alone."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to know…" Michiru stumbled to a halt, unsure what to say. No part of this was leading towards reconciliation, so there was no excuse really. Perhaps Michiru was just trying to hurt her. Or maybe she was asking for forgiveness.

Darkness gathered in the sky above as a squall swept in, bringing with it stinging drops of rain. Haruka's voice was so low with venom Michiru almost didn't hear her.

"The Michiru I used to know would never have lowered herself to be with someone she didn't love."

Michiru smiled into the wind, lemon-rind bitter. "The Michiru you knew was a soldier who still had her honour."

"If you want your honour, you should take it back yourself. Don't wait for me to forgive you, because I won't."

"Whether you do or not, I don't think it matters. Don't you remember the old nursery rhyme?

_Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall_

_Humpty Dumpty had a great fall_

_All the kings' horses and all the king's men_

_Couldn't put Humpty together again_

"Then why are you here?" Now, Haruka was almost shouting.

"Because I was dying before."

Something flickered in Haruka's eyes, guilt perhaps, or an understanding of what Michiru was saying that went beyond her intent. As if she looked inside Michiru and saw her torment all too clearly.

Haruka swallowed, the sky clearing as the tension drained out of her body. Her eyes flicked up briefly to collide with Michiru's, but Michiru couldn't read their expression. In her voice though, that husky voice with its rich velvet whisper, Michiru was sure she heard a waver.

"Look Michiru, even now, as you are, you're still—" Haruka stopped abruptly and turned away.

Her unfinished sentence hung in the air, and Michiru couldn't shake off the feeling that she'd been about to say _perfect_. But that was forgotten entirely in the light of what Haruka unexpectedly said next, in a resigned and curiously empty tone.

"I was with someone too, for a while. Hotaru hated her, and Setsuna tried really hard to like her, which was worse. We broke up after a few months. I think as soldiers…that kind of love is something we're perhaps not meant to have. It gets in the way. That's what I've decided anyway. I will be fully devoted to my duties and nothing else. It's important you understand that."

Their eyes locked across a gulf of regret. Michiru understood. She was being told not to hope.

* * *

If things were difficult with Haruka, at least with everyone else they were starting to get easier. That night, minus Haruka, all of the senshi gathered at the Outer residence for pizza and Michiru allowed her comrades' seemingly endless energy and enthusiasm to wash away a measure of her own exhaustion.

She was glad to hear about their lives, their jobs, their studies, their crushes and boyfriends. She was glad to see Usagi and Mamoru so happy together, finally enjoying the love in this life they never got to experience in the past.

Hotaru's laughter especially was like streaks of colour in a grey world. Michiru thought back all those years, to the tortured little girl Hotaru had been, and how she'd once believed that death was the only answer. This – life, happiness, laughter, healing – was surely preferable to what Neptune, Uranus and Pluto had once vowed to do.

So why was Haruka still so determined to maintain that Michiru had been wrong to hold out hope for Tamiko? Michiru wanted to believe it was only stubbornness, but in truth she was still torn over what she had done. In one way, no matter what else could or would have happened, the decision had been wrong because it endangered the life of the Princess, and protecting the Princess was the one thing Michiru was supposed to do above all others. Even if Usagi herself agreed with Michiru's attempt to protect Tamiko, it didn't matter. The soldiers of the Princess were there to make the ugly choices so she didn't have to. They gave their humanity in defence of her innocence. And Michiru had failed to do that; had made Uranus do it instead, when she gave her body to the flames.

Blinking the wetness from her eyes, Michiru took another swig from her beer and hoped her maudlin musings were going unnoticed. When Setsuna came to sit beside her, she knew she'd failed.

"So, how was training today?" she asked quietly.

The others were teasing Matoko about her latest senpai, and didn't hear the question.

"Pretty dreadful." Michiru looked on idly as Makoto started pulling Mina's hair. "Does Haruka always stay away from social gatherings, or is it on account of my being here?"

"No, she never spends time with us. Says she wants to concentrate solely on her senshi duties. Bullshit, of course. She was the Formula Nippon Champion last year, you know, and if she can make time for her racing career, she should be able to make time for her friends."

There was a bitterness in Setsuna's voice Michiru had never heard before, that made her reach out and take her hand.

"It's not fair that she's punishing you too."

"Mostly, I think she is punishing herself."

Michiru sighed, hesitated, went on. "Haruka told me today that…she went out with someone for a while after she and I broke up. I didn't know that."

Setsuna grimaced. "Well, we managed to keep it out of the press."

"Who was she?"

"Does it matter?"

The look Michiru gave her told her that it did.

With a shrug, Setsuna said, "She was no one, just a racing fan. Haruka only started going out with her after she found out you were seeing…him. It was a pretty dreadful relationship. I was glad when it ended."

"Haruka also told me that she never wants to be with anyone again. That she wants to devote herself purely to her duties as a Soldier. But if that's the case, if she really…doesn't want me," Michiru had to disguise the lump of grief in her throat with another swallow of beer, "why does the Sword still have my blood? Why can't she at least let me go?"

"You need to be saying this to her rather than me."

"I _tried _saying it to her Setsuna. She wouldn't listen."

"You made her listen last time."

"Last time?"

"Mmm. Or I should say, the first time, when you and Haruka got together. How did you make her listen then?"

Michiru smiled slightly at the memory. "I pursued her and I pursued her and I wouldn't accept it when she tried to push me away. But that was different. I knew we were supposed to be together. I don't have that anymore."

"Show her the scar. Make her recognise what she's done."

"No." Even thinking about it made Michiru cringe.

"Then keep talking to her. It's all you can do."

"I know." Michiru sighed. She hated feeling helpless.

Later that night, alone in the room that had once not been hers alone, Michiru raised her Mirror and looked into its clear glass surface. Partly she did it because she had told Haruka she would; partly it was because she knew they needed intel and she was desperate to be able to provide it. But most importantly it was because Michiru needed to re-forge her relationship with her Talisman, and she wasn't going to excuse herself from doing it any longer.

It was difficult for her to forget the last time she had used this Mirror in Battle, and what she had done with it, and that made it hard for her to start using it again in the present. But the Mirror was a part of her, and if she had done evil with it then she had to accept that and comes to terms with it if she was ever to be able to use her weapon again for good as had been intended.

She stared at it for ten minutes, but all it showed her was her face. She and her reflection both frowned. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of the Mirror in her hand, trying to reach out with her mind to all those tiny threads of reality and possibility that it connected to, trying to feel her way to that solar system not unlike their own where Metalia's hatred burned eternal in the heart of her sun.

But nothing was clear; her vision wouldn't focus. There was some kind of blockage, whether of evil source or not Michiru couldn't tell, and no matter how hard she tried to find a way around it, she couldn't.

Frustrated, angry at herself for her failure, Michiru opened her eyes at last. She looked into the Mirror, willing it to show her something – anything. Suddenly, the Mirror went black. Something glimmered through the darkness, just for a moment, and then it was clear again, showing Michiru her own disturbed blue eyes.

As fast as it had been, Michiru knew what that glimmer was. It had been Haruka's Space Sword, its edge falling sharp and true with a shimmer of lethal golden sparks.

Michiru stirred uneasily. Why had the Mirror shown her that? It was the past, surely? Was it some kind of warning, telling her that she and Haruka had to find a way to get over their pain and unite for the good of everyone? As if she didn't already know that. As if that made it any more possible.

She placed the Mirror face down on her bedside table and contemplated the prospect of going to sleep. As usual, she felt lonely without Haruka beside her. Logically, after two years, the pain of separation should have lessened, but it hadn't. It was still as raw as it had ever been, and Michiru didn't know which Haruka she found it more difficult to deal with – the one who was cruel to her, or the one who was distantly kind.

Regardless, Michiru knew she wasn't going to give up. She'd spent long enough lost in sorrow. She would fight, and she would work, until Haruka was at least prepared to accept her as a soldier again. That, she convinced herself, would have to be enough.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_Tokyo, January 27, 2000_

New life, new girlfriend. There were plenty of girls and Haruka had picked one at random. Why not, since she'd heard Michiru was having her fun in Vienna (with a man).

She'd forbidden anyone to mention her birthday, but still, she came home that night to find her new girlfriend sprawled naked on her new bed in her new apartment, wearing an expression of vapid seduction that made Haruka squirm.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her exasperation mistaken for play.

"Well," the girl giggled. "I thought it was about time I seduced you, since you haven't tried to do it to me yet."

It was on the tip of Haruka's tongue to reply, _maybe that's because I don't want to_, but she bit back the response. Michiru. Michiru had already found someone else, a conductor, a respected professional of the classical music world, a _man_, the sort of man Michiru's family had always wanted her to be with.

Haruka could just imagine the letters of congratulations that were streaming in from her parents, so long estranged.

She turned to her new girlfriend with a smile made brittle by hidden tears. "I'm tired tonight. Maybe another time?"

The girl pouted. "But it's your birthday," she exclaimed in a childish sing-song voice.

Already she was reaching for Haruka, taking off her clothes, running her hands over smooth skin that she never would have guessed had known the touch of fire.

The last of Haruka's burn scars had disappeared just a month ago. She'd thought she'd carry the marks of her ordeal forever, and had taken a perverse kind of pride in that knowledge; was almost disappointed when she began to heal. Now, her skin was whole, but it felt like it was barely holding together what was left of her shattered insides.

No one but Michiru had ever touched Haruka like this before, and the echo of her touch, so much deeper than this skimming of the surface, stirred up unbearable longings in Haruka's heart. How much she'd wanted in those long, pain filled nights in the hospital just to reach out and find Michiru's hand. She knew Michiru was always there, suffering from her own recovering wounds, waiting for Haruka to speak, but she never allowed herself to do it. Not when she remembered the lies, the deceit, the ghost of Tamiko which would ever stand between them.

"Don't," Haruka said, grabbing the girl's wrist when she reached between her legs. "I'll…touch you, but I don't want you to touch me, okay?"

"Why not?" The girl blinked owlishly. "Are you really a stone butch?" Her tone was more curious than accusatory.

All these stupid, meaningless labels. The ridiculousness of it made Haruka let out a short, savage bark of laughter. "No, I…"

_I don't want to be touched by anyone but her._

"I can't, that's all."

The girl shrugged and flopped back down onto the bed. "Whatever. As long as you do me I don't mind."

_Do me?_

Haruka winced inwardly at the crudeness. She felt no desire whatsoever for this mixed-up girl who seemed to think that intimacy was like playing a cheap parlour trick, but the situation had gone somewhat beyond her control. She lowered herself onto the girl and gave her what she wanted, and afterwards, alone in the sterile kitchen, she cried.

* * *

_Tokyo, Early May, 2002_

Slowly, as spring advanced, Michiru learned to fight with her scar. She still wasn't as good as before, but she found ways to compensate. If she could, she used her special attacks before moving in to close combat. She learned to spot her enemies' weaknesses quickly and exploit them. One time, she released a dam and drowned a whole legion of Sparklers without even getting within singeing range.

Haruka seemed happy enough to accommodate her new style, using her greater physical strength to back up Michiru's strategies.

The Talismans, however, remained a problem. Michiru wouldn't use her Mirror, Haruka couldn't use the Sword, and Michiru still didn't want to broach the subject of blood. Setsuna commented dryly that in the event of a serious large-scale attack, Haruka and Michiru would be about as much use as a pair of wounded dwarves compared to what they were before, and unhappily, Michiru had to agree.

Meanwhile, the opening night of the Rite of Spring was fast approaching. It was both stressful and strangely comforting to Michiru that she had her old double life back. She would go to practices bone weary with exhaustion and still somehow find the strength and the will to play. Her wardrobe expanded to include more trousers, long skirts and long sleeved shirts for their invaluable use in concealing injuries. She began to remember how it felt to play with the awareness that her own fragile body was all that stood between the world and its destruction.

The incredible pain of that, and the beauty.

Everyone came to the opening night except for Haruka, but Michiru got the feeling she was watching anyway. Something crackled through her that night as she played, a spark she thought extinguished forever. She heard her violin soaring and for the first time since the night on the Hill she recognised the sound of her own music. Her chest felt torn open by the end of the performance, but oh, it was worth it. Worth the sacrifice to reclaim her voice.

And then, a week later, Haruka nearly died.

Funnily enough, the monster responsible wasn't one that had been sent by Metalia. It was just the ordinary sort, a vagabond of the galaxy looking for easy prey. Once upon a time, Michiru and Haruka would have dispatched it together without even breaking a sweat.

It landed on the beach at sunset. A remote beach, far from the city, with no human habitation as far as the eye could see. If Michiru had seen a picture of it she would have called it a sea serpent, and for all she knew it could indeed have swum the Earth's oceans in some far off primordial past. With the world around them turning to molten gold it writhed and hissed upon the sand; Haruka and Michiru transformed into two tiny silhouettes of courage that stood confronting its monstrous coils.

The creature wasn't smart, but it was huge and strong, and their attacks had no more effect upon it than to make it mad. Glancing at Haruka's stubborn expression as she prepared for another World Shaking, Michiru was suddenly weary. They would defeat this foe, eventually, but how long was it going to take? How many hours of fighting still lay before them?

About as much use as wounded dwarves Setsuna had said, and she was right. Neither Michiru nor Haruka were willing to claim back their full power, and until they did they would always be fighting far below the standard they had once maintained.

Michiru grabbed Haruka's arm. "Uranus, wait."

Haruka raised an eyebrow at her, questioningly. Her body was tense, longing for battle, but Michiru didn't let her go.

With one thought the Mirror was in Michiru's hand. Her synapses snapped to attention, adrenaline coursing through her veins as the Mirror fused with her senses and brought everything into razor sharp focus. The wash of silver light was so strong it even pushed back the rays of the sun, and as the monster screamed and trembled Michiru saw the spot glowing on its forehead. The secret, vulnerable place where Haruka's Sword would find victory.

Already Haruka should have been moving, but she wasn't. Michiru glanced towards her with a question forming on her lips. It died when she saw the expression on Haruka's face.

Cold and distrustful, Haruka stood with her back to their foe and her Sword pointed at Michiru's chest. Her eyes were hard, glinting with menace. She met Michiru's shocked gaze defiantly then focused resolutely on the Mirror, as if expecting it to be turned next upon her.

Michiru's chest was aching at the sight of the Sword and the glow from her Mirror was fading. An incongruous bubble of laughter threatened to erupt at the ridiculousness of the situation; at the fact that Haruka's trust in her was so utterly broken she would perceive Michiru as the bigger threat and turn her back on an Enemy to face her.

The sea monster suffered no such confusion. Seeing its foes distracted, it lunged forward with a great roar, grabbed Haruka in its jaws and plunged into the sea. Michiru didn't even have time to scream a warning. There was suddenly just the empty beach and Haruka's dropped Space Sword lying before her on the sand.

Almost stupidly, Michiru blinked and picked it up. She couldn't have said why she did it, other than a sort of calling in her blood that made her long to feel the Sword in her hand. Strangely as she held it the pain in her chest faded, and she looked towards the ocean with ice cold hate in her eyes. That thing had taken her partner; perhaps killed her. It was going to die a lonely and bloody death in the deep. Michiru would make sure of it.

Securing both the Mirror and the Sword, Michiru dived into the waves and let the sea embrace her. It was easy to feel the monster's path in the disturbance of the currents around her. She was hardly even aware she was swimming; she was moving so fast it was more like she was being propelled through the water from sheer will, her Mirror shining in one hand and the Sword gleaming in the other.

To her knowledge, no senshi had ever wielded another's Talisman before, and she wasn't even sure the Sword would respond to her. She'd been its enemy once and perhaps still was in Haruka's eyes. But it was the only weapon available with the capacity to defeat this monster, and so Michiru held her breath and hoped.

She was gaining on the creature fast. Its taint was all around her, like flecks of grease and metal against her skin, but suddenly Michiru caught a sense of something else as well. A warm, faint pulse of light that beat steadily with the strength and scent of Haruka. Michiru's own heartbeat quickened in relief.

As they went deeper into the sea, the light of the world faded but the reflection of Michiru's Mirror did not fail her. Up ahead in the inky darkness she finally detected the shape of the monster. It was cutting through the water with who knew what purpose in its primitive mind, still gripping the apparently unconscious Uranus in its jaws.

Michiru began to draw alongside, prompting a vicious swipe from the sea serpent's tail. She swerved to one side and put on a final spurt of speed, at last overtaking the monster and blocking its path. It recoiled in the light of the mirror, opening its mouth to roar in pain and inadvertently letting the limp form of Uranus go.

There wasn't time to rescue her; the serpent saw Michiru's distraction and heaved its muscular body into hers, slamming her into an underwater cliff and trying to crush the life out of her. Struggling to stop herself from releasing vital bubbles of air, Michiru managed to raise the Sword and hack into the coils restraining her, gaining enough leeway to wriggle free.

The serpent lunged at her again but she was ready. Swimming straight as a bullet Michiru drove the Sword deep into the pulsing spot on the serpent's forehead and immediately felt its death. It thrashed madly, churning up a whirlpool of sea and blood, before floating listlessly and starting its spiral into the oblivion of the depths.

Michiru didn't care; she wasted no further thought on it. Her eyesight was darkening at the edges but she couldn't leave yet. She could still feel the faint pulse of her partner's life and she followed it down, past the falling coils of the serpent, until she caught the white gleam of Uranus's uniform. And, in that moment, as if the universe wanted her to learn the meaning of futility and despair, she felt the precious golden spark of Uranus's inner flame go out.

Eyes closed, body limp Uranus was like a helpless doll, sinking silently into the vastness of the ocean not even knowing of her own coming death. But dead or not Michiru wasn't about to leave her there. She grasped her hand and began to haul her up, towards the surface. Towards life.

With a gasp, Michiru broke through the surface of the water with the stricken Haruka in her arms. The sun had set and twilight was almost over. Already the world was settling into soft blue hues and the evening star was shining in the sky. Michiru had angled their ascent so they were as close to the shore as possible. Within a few powerful strokes she could feel the ground beneath her feet, and soon she was tumbling out of the breakers with her stricken comrade to fall messily onto the sand.

Getting unsteadily to her feet, Michiru dragged Haruka higher up the beach, carelessly tossing both the Mirror and the Sword aside. She felt for a pulse, listened for a heartbeat, but there was nothing. Haruka wasn't breathing.

No, Michiru thought. This wasn't Haruka herself. Only Haruka's body was here.

It wasn't fair that Michiru could finally touch her now, when she lay so quiet, all her power extinguished. She seemed otherwise uninjured, nothing besides a few scrapes and bruises, but it made no difference. Haruka had been too long underwater, too long in Michiru's element. The sea had claimed her life.

"No," Michiru whispered. "No."

Hardly even believing it would work, she placed her hands on Haruka's chest. She could sense the seawater clogging her lungs, stopping her breath and starving her blood.

"Out!" Michiru felt it; the seawater in Haruka's body moving sluggishly in response to her command. She pushed down harder, pouring every ounce of strength she possessed into bending this tiny piece of ocean to her will. "OUT! Get out of her! Get out!"

Haruka's body convulsed; hurriedly Michiru turned her onto her side as she vomited up the sea and began to breathe again in great, gasping gulps.

Dazed eyes looked up into Michiru's. Haruka struggled to move, but Michiru placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Don't," she whispered, her words almost lost beneath the crash of the breakers. "Don't try to move yet. You're safe." Even as she spoke that final word Michiru's mouth twisted in pain. With the crisis over her fear was fast turning to anger. How dare Haruka do this; how dare she risk both their lives by turning her back on an enemy; how dare she trust Michiru so little.

And underneath that, a deeper hurt raged. Too clearly Michiru saw how little progress they had made, how deep the wounds were. She was staring now into the face of reality, and it was telling her that things might truly be too far gone to ever be repaired. All those stupid little dreams she'd been harbouring, the ones so fragile she hadn't even let herself think of them, couldn't survive the onslaught. They died on that windswept beach with the terrible knowledge of Haruka's actions.

Abruptly Michiru stood and turned away. She was shaking; tears pouring down her face. She couldn't be bothered to stop them.

Behind her, she heard Haruka struggling to her feet.

"Neptune…"

"Fool," Michiru said sharply. "What did you think I was going to do? What?"

She stalked over to the discarded Talismans and swept both of them into her hands. Haruka flinched slightly when Michiru held the Mirror towards her.

"This – is what I use on Enemies. I used it on you once before, but never again, Uranus; not under any circumstances. You have my word on that. If you can't believe me – if you can't trust me enough to believe that – then we can't work together. This whole thing is pointless."

She threw the Space Sword at Haruka's feet. "I return this to you. Take it up. If I am truly the one you see as your worst Enemy; the nemesis most worthy of that Sword, then so be it."

Haruka took an unsteady step forwards. "Neptune…you're bleeding." It was all she managed before her knees buckled and she fell face first into the sand.

Only after Haruka spoke did Michiru realise she was right. Her left calf was on fire, and when she looked down it was a bloody mess. In all the chaos, she hadn't even noticed. She flicked her eyes back to Haruka. If she stayed face down like that she would suffocate, after all the trouble Michiru had gone to.

Swearing under her breath, Michiru went to her and placed her in something approximating the recovery position. If anyone had pointed out that the recovery position did not strictly require the patient to have her head cradled, Michiru would not have taken it kindly. Exhaustion was creeping into her bones. She could feel that her transformation was about to end, and then her injury would get worse. How would she get Haruka home? They'd flown here in senshi form, but they clearly weren't leaving like that.

The easiest thing for now was to just sit on the beach holding Haruka's head in her lap, listening to the waves while the wind caressed her skin. Gently, Michiru ran her fingers through Haruka's hair. How well she remembered the feel of those strands, smooth and fine as spun gold. It had been Michiru's birthright once to touch Haruka like this, and it was only now, when she did it as a forbidden act, that she truly appreciated what she'd lost.

Peacefully Haruka slept. The last two years might never have happened. If only it could stay that way. If only…

And then, at last, reinforcements came. A helicopter landed on the cliff above the beach, the chop of its propeller shattering the night time quiet. Two figures alighted and quickly descended. Pluto and the Princess, silvered in the light of the rising crescent moon.

The Princess reached them first. "Michiru! Haruka! I felt—" There was raw fear in her voice as she flicked her gaze from one woman to the other. Of course the Princess would have felt it; they all would have. The death of a senshi.

"We're okay," Michiru managed. She licked her dry lips, tasting salt. "We're both okay." Despite her words, her voice wavered and she had to stop.

Pluto placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let's get the two of you home. Can you stand?"

Michiru nodded. "I can walk. Haruka…you'll have to carry her."

With a nod, Pluto picked up the still unconscious Haruka and began to carry her back towards the chopper. If she'd had the energy, Michiru might have been surprised at her easy show of strength.

Haruka's sword was still lying on the ground. After a moment of hesitation Michiru rescued it and secured it next to the Mirror. The Princess gave her an odd look but didn't ask questions. She merely did what was needed and offered Michiru her shoulder for support.

Despite the pain in her leg, Michiru realised that strangely, her chest wasn't hurting at all.

* * *

Several days passed, during which Haruka was advised to rest and the gash in Michiru's leg healed into a jagged scar. Michiru was glad the injury didn't interfere with her participation in the Rite of Spring concerts, though she did have to invent a story to account for her limp.

There was a debriefing with the Princess on Monday afternoon. Even before the meeting Michiru made it clear that, as far as she was concerned, its purpose was to discuss the dissolution of her partnership with Haruka.

Usagi demurred and said they would see.

The three of them met awkwardly in Usagi's living room. She poured out tea and offered cookies, which neither Haruka nor Michiru took.

With a sigh, Usagi bit into one herself and looked sorrowfully at her soldiers. Michiru almost would have preferred her to be angry.

"I'm glad you're both all right."

Michiru wanted to say _no thanks to Haruka_, but she bit her tongue. Probably the thought was clear on her face anyway.

"Michiru – you were very courageous. Haruka—"

"Don't compliment me Princess, I don't deserve it."

As Haruka spoke, her expression was closed. What did she feel about being saved by Michiru; being outdone by her? Anger? Resentment? Pride? Whatever her emotions, Michiru couldn't tell. She'd wrapped everything up into a tiny ball and hidden it deep in her heart.

"My actions that night were stupid, cowardly. I endangered myself and my partner. I owe Michiru a lot." It was said grudgingly, but the words were there. Though Michiru wondered just who had been working on Haruka beforehand and for how long to even get her to a point where she would admit that.

"You shouldn't have placed me in that position," Michiru said coldly. "I know we fought each other once before, hurt each other, but that's in the past. You keep talking about your duty and how important it is to you, but you won't even consider how your behaviour towards me is endangering all of us. Endangering Her."

They both glanced at Usagi but she said nothing. Only continued to observe with her big, understanding eyes.

"Did the sword hurt you, when you used it?"

"What?" Cold sweat prickled under Michiru's arms. So, Haruka did know something about the connection between herself and the Sword. She'd suspected as much. But just how much did she know?

"I know it hurts you when I use it. That's why I haven't been. But, when you used it…?"

"It didn't hurt me," Michiru admitted in a faltering voice.

Haruka's reply was flat and ironic. "Weird. I don't even understand my own weapon any more. Maybe we should swap. I'll use the Mirror and you can use the Sword."

"_Can_ you use the Mirror?"

"I don't know."

"Well – why don't you try?"

Rather uncomfortably, Haruka took the proffered Mirror and turned it over in her hands a few times, as if getting used to the feel of it.

"What do I do?"

"Concentrate."

All three women sat there with the cooling tea and the plate of cookies before them, while outside birds were chirping in the garden. Nothing happened.

Haruka gave a humourless laugh. "Well, that isn't fair at all. Michiru can use both the Talismans and I can't even use one. How the hell are we supposed to fight like this?"

Michiru felt Usagi's eyes shift to her. It seemed she was waiting for Michiru to say more, to speak of the scar on her chest and her blood in the Sword. Maybe this was all Michiru's fault. She knew things she wasn't telling Haruka, things that affected their ability to fight. But she couldn't talk about it. She couldn't.

"I think," said Usagi.

Both senshi immediately gave her their full attention.

"I think I made a mistake. I thought it would improve things if the two of you started to work together, but I'm pushing you too hard. There is too much hurt here. I can see that now. Michiru, you can partner with Hotaru from now on. Haruka, with Setsuna. That way you'll both be able to use your Talismans."

"What if everyone has to fight together?" asked Haruka.

"Then try to stay out of each other's way on the battlefield."

Not far away, they heard the sound of the front door being opened and closed.

"Ah, that will be Mamoru." Usagi got to her feet, the meeting apparently over.

Haruka, it seemed, had other ideas. "Princess." She grabbed Usagi around the waist and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Forgive me. Next time, I won't fail to protect you. I promise."

_Usagi wasn't even there!_ Michiru screamed silently, more than a little disgusted by Haruka's childish need to demonstrate her affection like this. More than a little annoyed at her own twinge of jealousy.

The moment broke as Mamoru entered. "Usagi? I brought dinner home. I—Ah, sorry, sorry. I didn't realise—I'll go wait in the kitchen." Face flaming, he looked from Haruka's confrontational stance to Usagi's flushed cheeks, his eyes on the hand that still lingered around Usagi's waist.

He tossed a kind of helpless look in Michiru's direction before he left, sort of like a visual shrug.

Michiru followed his example. She bowed and departed, leaving Haruka and Usagi alone together. If something was going on, it was none of her business. The late afternoon sun blinded her for a few moments as she left the house. Breathing in the thick, humid air was like being muffled by wet wool.

A few minutes later, Haruka emerged. She seemed almost surprised to see Michiru still lingering in the drive. She nodded tersely and walked over to her motorbike.

"See you round," was all she said before kicking the starter and roaring off into the heat-shimmered distance.

How like Haruka. She hadn't even said a proper thank you.

* * *

Author's notes: Okay, whew, that was a lot of work. I have to stop writing these actions scenes! They're way too difficult! Things look bleak for our heroines, don't they? Hopefully the next update isn't too far away...


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_Tokyo, May 30, 2002_

"So."

Michiru glanced at Setsuna over the top of her book.

"So?" she asked.

"You haven't seen Haruka since…?"

"Since we stopped working together? No." Michiru paused. "But I'm assuming you have. Metalia's been sending a lot of monsters our way this past week. Unless Haruka has been standing you up."

"No, it's not that. She's been showing up to fight."

"And?"

With an unhappy expression, Setsuna flopped down onto the couch next to Michiru. "And nothing. That's all. Just like before."

"I'm sorry Setsuna," Michiru said softly. "I know you were hoping Haruka and I could work things out. This has all been horribly unfair on you and Hotaru. I wish it didn't have to be."

"Maybe it's selfish, but all I want is to have my family back. I was so lonely before, guarding the Door of Time by myself, always separated from you and Haruka and Hotaru. I thought that in this world the four of us could finally be happy together and then – Metalia happened – again. And she destroyed everything, just like last time."

It was rare for Setsuna to speak so plainly about her emotions. Normally, she was almost completely self-contained, turning her sadness inwards and retreating into the comforting world of science. A world that was sterile and controlled, where subjective judgements had no place. Perhaps it was the only way to cope with emotions that were so complex and deep, with the memory of so much loss.

Michiru kissed her on the cheek to drive away the shadows in her eyes. "Metalia hasn't destroyed everything. The world is still here, and we're still fighting to save it. As for Haruka and I…I guess we're just too broken to be fixed, but you weren't wrong to try. And, no matter how things turn out, I'm glad to be home."

Setsuna smiled at her. "I'm glad you're home too."

Distantly, the phone began to ring.

"I'll get it!" Hotaru called from upstairs.

Michiru and Setsuna exchanged a wry expression that spoke of the trials of teenage daughters. Assuming the call was from one of Hotaru's school friends, they returned to their respective activities; Michiru reading her book and Setsuna muttering under her breath over a science journal.

They both looked up in surprise when Hotaru came downstairs and gravely handed the phone to Michiru. "It's for you," she said in a strange, tight voice. "It's Haruka."

With a nervous clench of her stomach, Michiru put the handpiece to her ear. "Haruka?"

"Michiru." Haruka's voice was steady but Michiru could tell something had shaken her. "I need you to come. Now. Bring the Mirror. Don't tell the others."

"Why? What's happening?"

"You'll understand when you get here. I'm at my apartment. Will you come?"

There was only one answer Michiru could give.

* * *

Haruka buzzed Michiru in as soon as she pressed the intercom. As instructed, she took the elevator up to the top floor, emerging onto what was obviously the most opulent level of an already lavish complex.

Haruka was waiting for her in the hall, leaning with her back against the wall and the door to her apartment half open behind her. She was wearing light coloured slacks and a loose long sleeved cotton shirt with what looked like a tank top underneath. Michiru guessed the shirt had probably been added on account of her presence. Clothes were just one of the many barriers Haruka presented to those she didn't quite trust.

Wearing a bright halter top and floral print skirt, Michiru suddenly felt overly feminine, and wished she'd worn something different. Even if it would have meant a more uncomfortable journey over here in the heat.

"Thanks for coming," Haruka said. She straightened. "If you'd follow me…"

Michiru followed Haruka into her apartment with a peculiar feeling. She was well aware that this was, in effect, Haruka's sanctuary. The place where no one was invited except for Hotaru and Setsuna and Usagi. For Haruka to call her here, there must indeed be something serious going on.

When Haruka led her into the living room, Michiru understood. The Space Sword was floating in mid air in the middle of the room, pulsating with a golden glow that was steadily getting brighter.

As usual, the pain in Michiru's chest started up, throbbing with each pulse of light, but there was something else too. Throughout the whole room there was an oppressive atmosphere like a brewing thunderstorm. Breathing was difficult, and Michiru had to fight to control a rising sense of nausea.

Haruka glanced at her with crossed arms. "You okay?"

"It's affecting me. Worse than usual. Can't you feel it?"

"I can't feel anything. To me it's just…floating there and glowing."

"When did this start?"

"About half an hour before I called. It's been getting brighter ever since."

"Have you tried moving it?"

"Won't budge. Like it's locked in concrete. I thought maybe you could do something. Or the Mirror."

With every step Michiru took towards the Sword, the pain got worse. She forced herself on and held up her Mirror, but it did nothing. Deciding to try a more direct approach she touched the hilt of the Sword with her hand. A jolt went through her, and the sword glowed red, before clattering to the floor and returning to normal.

Gingerly Haruka picked it up. Michiru could hardly feel anything coming off of it now. Her pain faded to a dull discomfort like an incipient toothache.

"That was weird," Haruka commented. She glanced at Michiru. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know. I just touched it."

"The colour changed. Why?"

"I don't _know_."

"You know something about it. More than you're telling me."

"I don't know anything."

"Liar." With a sigh, Haruka placed the Sword on what was probably a very expensive coffee table. "Fine. You fixed the Sword. You can go home now."

As she started to turn away, Michiru forced herself to speak. "Blood," she blurted out.

"What?"

"My blood is still in the Sword. That's probably why it responds to me. And why it can hurt me."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I first got back, Setsuna told me. She said after the Battle she was the one who collected our Talismans. My blood was on the Sword, and she couldn't get it off. She said the sword absorbed my blood into itself. It's still in there, somewhere. A piece of me in your sword."

"She told this to you? Why did she never tell me?"

"I guess it didn't matter when I was in Vienna. It's only since I've gotten back that the Sword and I have been affecting each other."

"Why would the Sword take your blood?" Haruka demanded.

Michiru gave Haruka a level look. "It's your Sword, Haruka. If anyone knows the answer to that, it's you."

Haruka didn't reply to that.

"Look," said Michiru, slightly irritated. Without invitation, she sat down on one of the dove-grey Italian sofas facing the coffee table. "My Talisman doesn't work properly either, you know. The Mirror won't show me things anymore. When I look into it, all I can see is an image of the Sword. The trauma of the past."

"I suppose it was to be expected." Haruka threw herself down onto the opposite sofa. "Our Talismans were never supposed to be wielded the way they were that night. It makes sense they'd be tainted."

This was probably the most open they'd been with each other since Michiru's return. Perhaps it was because they were no longer oppressed by expectation. They knew no one was expecting them to work together, to try and fix what couldn't be fixed."

"All the king's horses…" Michiru softly intoned.

"That silly rhyme again?"

"But it's true, isn't it? Nothing will ever be able to put us back together again. When faced with me and a sea serpent, you saw me as the bigger threat. You saw me as the Enemy."

"You helped our Enemies once."

"I know what I did. I betrayed our calling to protect the Princess and this world to shelter an enemy. However compassionate my motives were, it was still a betrayal, it had terrible consequences, and I have never flinched away from recognising that truth. But I'm trying to redeem myself, Haruka. I'm trying and you won't let me."

"I already told you not to expect anything from me."

"How can you say that when you're the one who still has my blood and won't give it back? If you can't forgive me, at least set me free."

Eyes smoky with anger, Haruka picked the sword up and almost casually pointed it at Michiru. She didn't even bother getting up. "Fine. Sword, return Michiru's blood to her."

The Sword glowed, and a bright beam of golden energy shot out and engulfed Michiru. This wasn't healing energy; it was all attack. Michiru's chest felt like it was being ripped apart, and every fibre of her body was saturated with the unforgiving pain of hate. She started to scream, and knew no more.

When Michiru regained consciousness, she was lying on the other sofa with a light blanket covering her. The couch she'd been sitting on was blasted to shreds. The Sword and the Mirror lay tumbled together on the floorboards. Both were dull and quiet.

"Michiru!"

She jumped to find Haruka kneeling beside her, eyes full of guilt and concern.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to do that, I swear. I had no idea the Sword could do anything like that."

Gingerly, Michiru sat up and rubbed her chest. She didn't even want to look at Haruka. Her skin was still crawling with the memory of all that hate. Was that what Haruka felt for her now?

"I have to go," she said quietly.

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Listen."

Slowly, the sound of rain invaded Michiru's consciousness, along with the metallic taint of darkness. "It's not…"

"Yes," Haruka whispered. "The dark rain is falling."

It was another of Metalia's devices. At least, that was what they suspected. Rain enchanted with darkness that had the power to undo transformations and temporarily disable the powers of any senshi caught out in it. Luckily, the rain hadn't been as effective as Metalia hoped, since she hadn't been able to stop it affecting her own troops as well. Nor did she seem to be able to accurately control or predict when the rain would fall.

This meant that the rain was more of a dangerous annoyance than the lethal weapon Metalia had probably intended it to be. Until now, Michiru had never even experienced it. Official battle policy stated that unless there was a monster emergency, the safest thing to do was just to take shelter and wait it out.

But Michiru was determined she was not going to take shelter with the woman who had just pointed a sword at her. "I'll ring a taxi," she said. "As long as I don't get wet I'll be fine."

"Too risky. If you're attacked on the way home…"

"Apparently there's a good chance of being attacked it I stay here as well." Michiru's words were razor sharp.

"No," said Haruka firmly. "I'm not touching the Sword again tonight. I'll take it to Setsuna tomorrow and make her run tests or something. Find out why it did that to you. Until then—" Michiru realised Haruka was shaking badly. Before she knew what had happened, she found herself wrapped in an unexpectedly warm embrace. "God I'm sorry. All I can do these days is hurt you."

Whispered into her ear in a low, anguished voice, those words awoke in Michiru a dangerous desire to be comforted. She fought against it, but she found herself relaxing into Haruka's arms, breathing in the scent of her, fitting herself to the contours of the body that she remembered all too well. Every night in Vienna she'd wanted this, to be held with that fierce protective tenderness that meant her life was still worth something.

Haruka's phone began to ring.

Reluctantly, she moved away from Michiru to answer it.

"Hello? Setsuna? Yes, she's here. I know. I've said she can stay. It's the safest thing. Ah, tomorrow? Okay. Yes. Bye."

Haruka hung up the phone and looked at Michiru. "The others are all safe. No sign of any enemies. Looks like it's just a rainstorm. But Setsuna thinks it won't stop till tomorrow morning. So I guess…"

"Well, in that case I'm going to bed," Michiru said firmly. It was barely nine o'clock, but she didn't care. She was exhausted from the attack, confused about being held, and entirely distrustful at what she might be tempted to do if she stayed much longer in Haruka's company.

"Okay. My room is upstairs."

"I am not sleeping in your room! Doesn't Hotaru have her own room? I'll sleep there."

"Let me show you."

The two women proceeded up the stairs to the spacious second floor of the apartment. Haruka opened the door to what had obviously been Hotaru's bedroom, and Michiru gasped at the damage. All the furniture was smashed to pieces. The splintered remains of CDs glittered everywhere like shards of glass, and shredded books huddled fearfully in corners. Even the walls were dented.

"What happened here?"

"Hotaru had a nightmare," said Haruka grimly.

"Metalia?"

A brief nod. "Visions of her army wiping out the Earth." Haruka paused. "You know, Hotaru is starting her last year of high school this year."

"I know," said Michiru softly.

"Sometimes I wonder if she'll live to graduate, and sometimes I wonder if I'll live to see her do it."

"No one's going to die." Emboldened by the embrace downstairs, Michiru placed her hand on Haruka's arm. "I won't let it happen."

She felt Haruka's skin twitch through the fabric of her shirt. "I never even thanked you for saving me from that sea monster. I'm a pretty ungrateful person, aren't I?"

"You are," Michiru agreed, but she caressed Haruka's arm ever so slightly to take the sting out of the words.

With a gentle smile that was perhaps meant as apology, Haruka moved away from her touch. "So you see, because Hotaru's room is out of commission, you'll have to sleep in mine. But don't worry; I'll take the sofa downstairs."

"I can take the sofa."

"No. You need to rest. That will be easier in my room. I'll get a few things and then leave you to yourself."

The first thing Michiru noticed about Haruka's room was how impersonal it was, almost like a hotel suite. There were no trophies, no photographs, no pictures on the walls. The only indication of Haruka was a stack of racing magazines on the left bedside table. That was evidently the side of the bed Haruka usually slept on. The same side, Michiru couldn't help but note, as when they were still together.

Haruka pulled out a bag and hurriedly shoved a few essentials into it. Michiru hovered and didn't know where to look.

"Right, that's everything." Haruka crossed the room and reached the door with evident relief. She paused and said awkwardly, "Come and get me if you need anything. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Michiru echoed. And then she was alone with the sound of the rain.

Her eyes were scratchy with tiredness. With a sigh, she flopped onto the bed still fully clothed. It was, she decided, too much effort to get under the comforter or turn off the light. Even the thought that this was Haruka's bed was no longer that important. All Michiru wanted to do was sleep.

She soon had her wish.

It wasn't long before she started to dream. She was standing in a vast domed hall, looking up at a force-field that held back a roof of molten ever-shifting flame. Even though she had never seen it, she knew this was Metalia's palace. The flames burned eternal with a muted roaring in her ears, yet the hall was cold and still as a crypt.

Michiru found herself approaching a throne bathed in light, so bright she almost couldn't look at it. Metalia was there, beautiful, radiant, consumed with hatred that would never let her rest. She tilted her head down haughtily, subjecting Michiru to the intensity of her golden, glowing eyes.

"At last we meet, my lost soldier. I've been waiting for you."

In the dream, Michiru was filled with an unaccountable confidence. "I've come to destroy you!" she said, never doubting her ability to do so.

Metalia merely laughed. "All by yourself?"

"No. I am here with Uranus, senshi of the sky. Together we will stop you."

"Look again, Neptune," Metalia whispered in a voice filled with venom. "Uranus is burning."

Turning, Michiru saw that image from the night on the Hill, the one she could never forget. Uranus running; kissed by starlight, obliterated by flame.

She woke up screaming Haruka's name.

Haruka pounded up the stairs and was with her in moments. "Michiru! Michiru! Are you all right? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Michiru gasped, grabbing onto the solid reality of Haruka's arm because she needed something to hold. "Just a dream."

"Metalia?"

Michiru gave a slight nod.

"What happened? Was it a premonition?"

"I don't know. But I think she saw me. We were connected for a moment."

Her voice unusually gentle, Haruka said softly, "That sounds scary. I'm glad you're okay."

A faint and unwanted shiver of desire shook Michiru's limbs. Haruka was sitting dangerously close to her. Their eyes locked. Michiru slid her hand down Haruka's arm in what could only be described as a deliberate caress.

Hastily Haruka drew back, cheeks flushed. "Look at you," she said, speaking quickly in an obvious attempt to change the mood. "Were you sleeping in your clothes? You can borrow something of mine if you want to."

Michiru started to shake her head, then changed her mind. "Actually – could I use your shower? First the Sword, now this dream – I don't feel clean."

"Yeah – let me just find something for you to wear…"

Leaving Michiru sitting on the bed, Haruka got up and opened her wardrobe. Immediately a pile of CDs clattered to the floor. Michiru looked at them curiously, then blanched a little when she saw they were her own recordings.

"Um," said Haruka, looking horribly embarrassed, "I can explain this."

"You've been secretly following my career all this time? Haruka, I'm touched." Michiru's voice was bone dry.

"Actually, I haven't. I only bought these a couple of months ago. That day we met in the café – I didn't understand how you could treat your violin so badly. I didn't understand how you couldn't care about your music anymore. So I bought these to try and make sense of it."

"And did you?"

Haruka gave her a level look. "Those CDs don't sound like you. The music is dead."

"Yes I know." Michiru paused. "But you're the only one who's noticed the difference."

"When you played the Rite of Spring, though, that was different. That music was yours."

"Ah, you were there on the opening night? I thought so."

"Purely for research purposes," Haruka said tightly.

"Of course."

Haruka tidied the CDs back into the wardrobe. "I didn't want you to see them when you came round, so I hid them in here. I didn't exactly expect you'd end up in my bedroom." Her mouth quirked wryly with humour.

She handed Michiru a towel and a change to clothes. "Here. Go freshen up. I'll make us some tea."

When Michiru returned, she found that Haruka had made not only tea but a light meal of sushi and rice. She'd placed everything on a low table situated at the far end of the bedroom, by the glass doors that led onto a generous balcony. They ate together looking out into the pouring rain and the blurred lights of Tokyo. The atmosphere was both intimate and awkward, and Michiru wondered why Haruka hadn't insisted they eat in the kitchen.

"Must be handy having the balcony," Michiru commented, because she couldn't think of anything to say.

Haruka replied with a vague noise of assent. Then she shook herself and smiled at Michiru in apology. "Sorry – I was distracted."

"What were you thinking about?"

"I was just wondering why you've started wearing your hair loose recently."

"What?" This was the last answer Michiru had expected.

"Well." Haruka shrugged slightly in embarrassment. "When you first moved back here, you always had it braided. But lately you've started wearing it loose, even though the weather has been getting hotter. I just wondered why."

"Maybe because I like to."

"Yeah, I guess that's a good reason." Abruptly, Haruka got to her feet. "It's really late. I should let you get back to sleep. Hey, aren't you going to bed?"

Drawing her knees up to her chest, Michiru stayed where she was, looking out at the rain. A landscape of desolation opened up inside her at the prospect of being left alone once more. "I suppose."

Fussing like a nursemaid, Haruka dragged Michiru up and worried her into bed, chastising her for not even turning down the covers before. Even if it was mostly guilt due to the incident with the Sword, Michiru still loved the sweetness.

As Haruka switched out the light, Michiru spoke.

"Please don't go," she said. "There's no reason for you to go back downstairs. We can share a bed can't we? It's not a big deal." She didn't know whether she was trying to convince Haruka or herself.

Haruka's shadow paused in the doorway. "I think it would be…a little strange," came the answer at last. Her voice was husky and quiet, sending hot rills of longing down Michiru's spine.

"Strange, maybe. Not impossible. Unless you really do hate me so much that the idea disgusts you."

"I don't hate you."

"Then come to bed."

After a moment of hesitation, Haruka complied. She closed the door softly, crossed the room in the dark and slipped into bed beside Michiru.

Briefly, Michiru wondered if this was where Haruka had slept with that other faceless girlfriend and pushed the thought away.

She was surprised to feel Haruka's fingers brush against her cheek, soft as butterfly wings. "I don't hate you Michiru," she whispered reassuringly. "I don't know what I feel for you anymore, but it isn't hate."

Desire, Michiru wanted to say. Haruka's hand was trembling with tension. Separated by a mere few inches, their bodies were longing for one another. It only took only the slightest turn of Michiru's head for her to place a kiss in the palm of Haruka's hand.

Encouraged by the sharp hitch of Haruka's breath, Michiru became bolder. She took Haruka's wrist and guided her fingertips to her lips, curling her tongue over the soft nubs of her pads in a deliberate rhythm she knew Haruka wouldn't have forgotten.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Hush. You know what I'm doing."

"I didn't come to bed for this."

"Didn't you?"

Michiru shifted closer and captured Haruka's lips in a kiss. Very quickly it escalated into passion, and it wasn't long before Michiru's t-shirt ended up on the floor. The problem of the scar had temporarily slipped her mind.

Haruka's hand froze as she felt the tail end of the scar tissue on Michiru's abdomen. "What is this?" she asked in a dry voice.

"Nothing, forget about it."

Ignoring her, Haruka sat up and turned on the nearest bedside lamp. Michiru flinched as the light hit her eyes. Fully exposed she lay there, fighting the familiar need to cover herself, watching the dawning horror on Haruka's face as she took in the long, jagged scar.

"That's from the Sword," Haruka said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Michiru felt curiously far away as she spoke. "The injury didn't heal properly. But you must have suspected that already. You know I can't fight as well as before."

"I didn't think it would be anything like this. It still looks…raw."

Michiru gave a humourless smile. "You wield your Sword powerfully, Haruka."

Haruka seemed faintly ill. "Who else knows about this?"

"Only Setsuna and Usagi, and only since I got back. I told them not to tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't want you to know."

Running her eyes anxiously up and down the scar, Haruka whispered, "does it hurt?"

"Not all the time."

"But it hurts when you fight?"

"Yes."

"When you play?"

"Yes."

Haruka's gaze flicked towards the wardrobe in sudden awful comprehension. "Those CDs I have…You were in pain during every one of those recordings?"

Deciding this had gone on long enough, Michiru switched out the light again. In the merciful dark she admitted, "Yes. It hurts. It always hurts when I play."

"For god's sake, Michiru, why didn't you stop?" Haruka's voice sounded choked with remorseful tears.

"Because music was the only thing I had left."

Michiru was so cold, lying by herself. She welcomed the sudden warmth of Haruka's body as she leaned down and hugged Michiru tightly. Soft, tender kisses covered her face and neck. "I'm sorry Michiru. I never meant to inflict an unending wound like this."

"I know." Michiru slid her hands beneath the fabric of Haruka's t-shirt, carefully charting her smooth skin. "You don't have scars do you? Setsuna said you'd healed, but scars can easily be hidden."

"No, I don't have scars." Haruka allowed her t-shirt to be lifted over her head, to join Michiru's on the floor. "And you shouldn't either. We need to talk to Setsuna about this. Figure out a way to heal you."

"Shh." Michiru silenced Haruka with another kiss. "For tonight, all I want is you."

A jolt went through her as she felt Haruka's fingertips lightly brush her scar. "Don't," Michiru said. "It hurts when people touch it."

"Let me try…Please." With the utmost care Haruka traced a line down Michiru's chest, following the scar tissue from beginning to end. The sensation it produced was unlike any Michiru had felt before. It was as if cool water was running soothingly over her skin, making the ever incipient heat and pain fade. She let out a gasp that was a mixture of arousal and surprise.

"That felt good," she admitted.

"Did it?" Haruka asked softly. "I'm glad."

Haruka's mouth followed the direction of her fingers, and as she kissed her way down Michiru's chest she took a moment to divest both Michiru and herself of their underwear. Michiru placed her hands on Haruka's shoulders, kneading and arching up into that sweet, gentle mouth.

"Haruka, please…" she sobbed.

Haruka's fingers, touching her. That touch she hadn't felt in so long. It was like benediction. It was like healing.

Wanting to feel closer, Michiru drew Haruka back up and kissed her. Tasted the sweetness of her mouth as Haruka's fingers explored her to her very core. Flipped them over so that she was on top of Haruka, straddling her. Pressed her lover down into the mattress, clutching the sheets with her hands. Reluctantly she broke away from Haruka's mouth, her breaths growing ragged. Haruka arched up into her, steadying her with her free hand, and buried her face in Michiru's throat. Kisses burned there against Michiru's skin.

Michiru rocked against the heel of Haruka's hand, seams of pleasure shattering into her belly with every move. She slid her hand over Haruka's breasts, down her lean side, over her quivering stomach. Haruka's thighs opened further, inviting her. When Michiru touched her she was slick and wet, and the feel of her made Michiru's heart pound even harder. She wanted to go slowly, god, she wanted to kiss every inch of this body she'd been denied for nearly three years. Coax Haruka into a slow and blinding climax, but they were both of them too desperate for that. The pleading breaths whispering against her skin, Haruka's low moan as Michiru took her – these things told Michiru that Haruka wanted this as much as she did.

Haruka's fingers dug harder into the flesh of her hip. Michiru's hair was falling forwards over her shoulders, covering both of them in a tangle of sea coloured curls. Perspiration gathered in the shadows where their bodies met, heat and friction and _her_. They moved together perfectly, Haruka's hand sure against her. Irrelevant thoughts welled up in the storm, disjointed, to be dashed on the rocks of Michiru's need…Her scar wasn't hurting at all, but surely it should be considering what they were doing…Why was there such joy now when there'd only ever been shame with him…_The Michiru I knew would never lower herself to be with someone she didn't love_…Had Haruka been like this, with that other girl? No, Michiru knew she hadn't, because it was wrong. Wrong for them to be apart. Wrong to be with anyone else.

This was right.

It was right.

It was right.

Smoky lust-hooded eyes seared Michiru's soul as she felt Haruka come apart beneath her, and she sobbed out her own release into the settling stillness of soiled sheets and guarded furniture. In the moment that followed, filled only with the sound of their laboured breathing, she felt Haruka's hand slip away from her. Something tugged painfully at Michiru's heart, like straining the edges of the scar tissue that almost rested over it. Reluctantly, she had to break contact as well as Haruka's long legs rearranged themselves against her. She stretched out with her head pillowed on Haruka's shoulder, giving a small sigh of contentment as she felt Haruka's arms encircle her.

"I love you," Michiru whispered at last, in the final fuzzled moments before sleep. She wasn't sure if she was meant to say it, but she couldn't not. She wasn't awake to hear if Haruka replied.

Haruka swallowed a sob and let her tears flow silently, breathing in the sharp-sweet scent of Michiru and the unaccountable hint of rose petals. At last she deposited Michiru's sleeping form gently onto the mattress and pulled the covers over her. Her hair was going everywhere but Haruka didn't try to tidy it. She stared at her with wide and troubled eyes for a long time in the faint night-time glimmer of the city's lights. The only reply to Michiru's words was the onset of a faint golden pulse coming from the Space Sword, lying forgotten and unseen on the living room floor.

* * *

Michiru awoke alone and disorientated in a whirlpool of sheets. The room was frigid, as if the air conditioning had been on for too long. With a frown she sat up. It wasn't a good sign that Haruka wasn't here. It probably pointed to an emotional freak-out.

Bright sunshine was coming in through the windows. At least, Michiru supposed, the rain had stopped. Then she reconsidered. If it had still been raining, there would have been no question of her going anywhere. That would have been a much more desirable situation.

Muffled sounds were coming from downstairs, as if Haruka was trying not very successfully to be quiet. Did she not want to wake Michiru out of concern, or out of reluctance to face what had happened the night before? Michiru rather feared it might be the latter.

As Michiru moved, she could still feel the aftershocks of their love-making in her body, like ghost-touches from Haruka on her skin. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to go out there and face whatever was going to happen. It would be messy and complicated. She wanted to stay here until Haruka was forced to come and find her, and then she would just drag her back into bed and make love to her until she had no resistance left.

Michiru smiled to herself wryly. If only the world could work like that.

After a quick shower, Michiru ventured into the kitchen dressed in her clothes from the night before. Haruka was standing with her back to Michiru making tea. She was wearing tight jeans and a loose singlet top, and the rigid line of her shoulders told Michiru that this was going to be worse than she thought.

Haruka turned to face her and stood with her hands braced on the bench as if for support. Her eyes were flat and dead.

"You'll need to leave soon. I have to get ready for work."

"What?"

"I have to get ready for—"

"I heard the words," Michiru's voice turned to ice. "But I don't understand why you're saying them. To me, as if I'm no more than a stranger you picked up in bar somewhere. I was your partner for six years. I told you last night that I love you. You could at least—"

"Stop!" Haruka shouted. "Stop saying these things to me. Last night you – you seduced me!"

"You wanted me to!"

There was nothing Haruka could say to that, because it was true. She moved her gaze to the floor, her hair falling forward to hide her expression.

"I'm sorry. Last night; it was a mistake. I shouldn't have let those things happen. The feelings you have for me, I can't return them. I told you that already."

"Because of the Princess? Haruka, she's never going to be with you."

"I know that," Haruka snapped. "I don't expect her to. All that I want is to love her. For it to be a pure love. Just love, and nothing else. Completely selfless. What you're offering is something I don't want. The love we shared, it destroyed us Michiru. It's not our destiny as soldiers to have that kind of love."

Michiru responded by stalking over to Haruka and kissing her aggressively. "I could seduce you again right now, if I wanted to." She stroked her hand between Haruka's legs, greedily watching her face for the signs of ecstasy she couldn't hide.

"You're probably right," Haruka agreed, voice roughed with desire. "But it wouldn't change anything, so what would be the point?"

Her eyes were completely steady as she held Michiru's gaze. Even now, trembling with need in Michiru's arms, her will was still unbreakable.

So Michiru broke instead.

She stepped back, and, unbeknownst to Haruka, she took the Space Sword with her when she left.

Author's note: The good news is that we are now getting pretty close to the end! Probably only another 2-3 chapters to go. The bad news is that even though I know exactly what is going to happen, absolutely nothing is written down except for a few brief notes. So the next update is probably a while away. Sorry, I know that I have left our heroines in a dreadfully cruel predicament. I'll write as fast as I can.

As always, thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing. If you've been with this story from the beginning, you have my apologies for my painfully slow progress! If you're a new reader, you are very welcome and I hope you enjoy!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Now that I'm back into it, this story is quite addictive! As usual, my thanks to Xrost for giving invaluable feedback and suggestions.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

_Tokyo, May 31, 2002_

Haruka collapsed onto her unmade bed and breathed in the scent of Michiru. A monster of pain and confusion felt like it was trying to claw its way out of the pit of her stomach. She couldn't stop herself from remembering the night before; couldn't stop herself wishing she hadn't sent Michiru away. They could have still been together. Haruka could have been lost in passion with her right now. She moved her hand, touching herself in the place where Michiru had before.

What sort of person was she, to reject the love of the only woman she wanted in her heart? How could she have watched so coldly as she made the light of hope die in her lover's eyes?

Michiru was right. Haruka couldn't let her go, but she couldn't accept her either. That night on the Hill, her trust had been too badly broken. Even when she tried to heal and forgive, she only caused Michiru more pain. The Space Sword remained in jealous possession of her blood, and Michiru was forced to bear the scar of its hate.

Haruka really wasn't a soldier of love at all.

How dead Michiru's tone had been when Haruka finally saw the wound. That alone told her the pain was so deep Michiru couldn't afford to let herself feel it to its full extent.

All because Michiru had tried to save the life of a frightened young girl trapped in a nightmare not of her own making.

All because Haruka was lying to herself about what she really felt.

The truth was that Uranus the soldier, whose only concern was to win battles and protect the Princess, would have forgiven Neptune long ago for the sake of the greater good. But it hadn't happened because Haruka was too deeply hurt. Michiru was the first person in her life who she'd ever learned to trust, and Haruka couldn't stand the fact that Michiru had lied to her and hurt her, no matter what the circumstances were.

That night on the Hill, Michiru showed everyone her fears, her insecurities. All the things she had never shared with anyone else. Uranus might have been objective enough to forgive such a desperate tactic, but Haruka couldn't. Because this distrust did not have its origins in Uranus and Neptune standing against each other as soldiers. This was about Haruka feeling betrayed by her lover, and not able to forgive her. This was about Haruka being too afraid to ask for forgiveness herself, given what she had done to Michiru in return.

Haruka's communicator began to beep madly. She was already on the point of blurting out Michiru's name as she answered, but it was Setsuna's worried voice she heard.

"Haruka? Is Michiru still with you? She hasn't come home, she isn't answering her communicator and apparently she hasn't shown up to her music rehearsal either. What's going on?"

Cold, uneasy fingers tapped on Haruka's spine. She could hardly speak through the lump in her throat. "No. Michiru's not here. I don't know where she is."

"Haruka talk to me. Tell me what's happened."

"I can't. I have to go. Bye."

Haruka rang off in the middle of an enraged swear word.

She pounded downstairs, searching for her Sword. As she half suspected, it was gone, along with Michiru's Mirror. There was an unmarked cassette tape sitting on the coffee table that hadn't been there the night before.

With shaking hands Haruka put it into the stereo and listened. What she heard was undoubtedly Michiru's playing, probably a practice session she'd recorded to listen to later. The music was the Rite of Spring.

Haruka's eyes widened. "Oh crap," she said, as black fear covered her heart.

* * *

In a small park above the city, Michiru sat with her eyes closed and her face tilted up towards the sun. As if thinking of someone else's life, she remembered that tonight was supposed to be the final performance of the Rite of Spring. She smiled bitterly. How appropriate. But tonight, someone else would have to take her place on the stage. Her best and last performance was one that no one would ever see.

It was a relief, in a way, to feel peace at last. She had no anger left. No pain. No despair. No hope. She was emptied of everything but the desire to die as a soldier should. She'd been carrying a fatal wound for a long time and now, finally, she could be free of the torment.

Michiru alone would take the fight to Metalia. She would have her revenge against the one who had taken everything from her.

Life. Love. Sacrifice.

If Haruka was right, and they weren't meant to know human desires, then soldiers was all that they were and Michiru knew she couldn't exist like that. She didn't want to. She'd rather die to protect all the Tamikos of the world and let them live on in her place.

She picked up her own Mirror and Haruka's Sword. It was time to go.

* * *

Haruka rushed into the park. She could feel that Michiru had been here. Her skin prickled with the energy of her recent transformation. The disturbance of the air told her she had only just taken flight.

Michiru wasn't waiting any longer. She was taking the fight to Metalia. She was going to die.

There were too many dead girls in Haruka's world.

Haruka didn't even consider calling the others. Every assault against Metalia had failed. In all likelihood, this one would as well. And they couldn't all afford to die. Someone would have to survive to carry on the fight.

But Haruka wasn't going to let Michiru face this on her own. She was going to be where she should have been all this time. At Michiru's side, fighting with her. Fighting for her. If that meant they were going to die together today, Haruka didn't mind.

She didn't want to live in a world without Michiru.

* * *

It was a long and lonely journey to that far distant solar system. Neptune was surprised she met no resistance along the way. Outer space was empty and silent. Even as she drew near to Adara, the planet Metalia had enslaved, there were no enemies in sight. Something about it made Neptune's blood stir uneasily. Metalia almost seemed to be inviting her.

Neptune had previously been told there was only one way to access Metalia's palace in the sun. On a small, rocky island locked in stormy seas, very far away from the nearest human habitation, there was a temple dedicated to the so-called goddess. Within the inner sanctum of that temple was a portal that connected to the palace. One of the priestesses had secretly helped the soldiers from time to time, which was how they had managed to make incursions before.

In a light squall of rain, Neptune landed on the island. She didn't bother to be cautious. The sooner she was captured, the sooner she would be taken to Metalia. But no one challenged her. There were no guards posted around the temple. She approached and entered cautiously, Mirror and Sword ready. Still she saw no one. She was able to walk without hindrance right into the chamber where the golden portal-stone rested on its pedestal.

At this point, Neptune paused. It was so obvious Metalia had laid some kind of trap. But what kind exactly? Clearly she had been forewarned of Neptune's coming, either by sentries or magic or some other means. Clearly she wanted Neptune to come. Clearly she must think it would be to her advantage.

Was it simply that Metalia wanted the pleasure of killing Neptune? It must be more than that. As Uranus had said, Metalia already had vast legions at her disposal. She could have sent her full power against the sailor soldiers any time she wanted to, killing all of them and enslaving the Earth. But she'd always been waiting. Waiting for something they couldn't see. Perhaps Neptune was about to finally find out what it was. She placed her hand on the portal, and entered the palace in the heart of Metalia's sun.

There were two sparklers waiting for her at the other end. They didn't try to attack, merely hissed at Neptune and motioned for her to follow. Part of her wanted to destroy them out of pure contrariness, but really, that would only delay her true object. She nodded her head slightly and allowed them to lead her through a series of labyrinthine halls. Everything around her was made of some polished marble-like substance. White walls, white floor, grotesque white statues showing writhing figures in attitudes of torture that Neptune didn't care to examine too closely.

And above them, held back by the force field, burned the glowing, molten fire of the sun. The steady roar of it was just like Neptune's dream. Even before they got there, she knew where the sparklers were taking her.

A pair of great golden doors opened inwards, revealing the domed hallway Neptune had already seen. At the sparklers' insistence, she entered. The doors closed behind her. She lifted her head and looked into the glowing eyes of her Enemy.

Metalia smiled. "At last we meet, my lost soldier. I've been waiting for you." Her voice was nothing more than a soft and vicious whisper.

Neptune approached the throne, eyes searching for hidden opponents. She felt nothing like the misplaced confidence of her dream, but nevertheless she spoke proudly.

"I am not your soldier. I serve the Princess of the Moon. Why have you allowed me to come here? You know I intend to destroy you."

Gleeful malice flickered through Metalia's eyes, but she didn't answer. She was watching Neptune with an eagerly expectant air.

Anger flamed in Neptune's cheeks. "Fine. Let me tell you what I think, then. Three years ago, you could have sent an army against us. Instead, you sent a terrified twelve year old girl. She was supposed to divide us, wasn't she? She was never supposed to be a successful assassin. You hoped that for at least one of us, our desire to protect Sailor Moon wouldn't be strong enough to stop us from trying to help Tamiko. You hoped it would result in conflict. You hoped it would break our power. Congratulations, you won.

"You succeeded in driving me away. You succeeded in making me hate myself. You succeeded in crippling the power I once possessed. You allowed me to come here only now because you think I am sufficiently broken for whatever purpose you have in mind. And I am broken; I don't deny it. But you are the one who took everything from me. Whatever you have planned, it doesn't matter. I'll still live long enough to kill you."

At last, Metalia rose gracefully from her throne and approached Neptune like a tiger stalking its prey. A quiet smile played at the corners of her lips. They were almost close enough to touch when Neptune raised the Sword at her, warningly.

Metalia's smile grew wider in an undisguised declaration of triumph. Her eyes burned fervently as she looked at the Sword, and Neptune felt the ice of uncertainty creeping into her heart.

Sailor weapons were sacred, and did not respond to the touch of an Enemy. So why was Metalia regarding the Sword with such lust?

Metalia flicked her gaze to Neptune's face. "You're right of course in everything you say. But you still don't know the best part. That night on the Hill, I could see through Tamiko's eyes. I saw Uranus's weakness in your Mirror. I saw how she loved you. How she trusted you. I saw her pain at your betrayal. How easy it was to use that against her."

"Uranus isn't here!"

"No, but her weapon is."

With a sharp motion of her hand, not needing to make physical contact, Metalia twisted the Sword from Neptune's grasp. It flew to hover in front of her, dipping and dancing at her command. Not once did she need to touch it.

The Sword started to glow, just like it had in Haruka's apartment. Steadily increasing waves of golden light spilled into the room, making Neptune's scar burn.

So, Metalia had found a way to manipulate the Sword. That was why it had been glowing the night before. That was why Metalia had finally let Neptune come. Because she knew her power had grown enough to control the Sword. Because she knew that now she could kill Neptune with it.

But Neptune still had her Mirror. She raised it with a cry and sent a swathe of silver light towards her Enemy. Long before the light reached her, Metalia used the Sword to slice it to pieces.

With cruel delight in her eyes she watched Neptune flounder. Slowly, she closed her hand into a fist, changing the intensity of the Sword's aura. The pain of fire seared through Neptune's scar, and she dropped to her knees, gasping. Reflexively, she scrabbled at her chest, feeling wet, hot blood on her hand. The wound was no longer closed.

Metalia approached Neptune, regal and merciless. "You're learning, Neptune. You know now I can control the Sword. You know I am going to kill you with it. But you still don't know why."

"Then tell me," said Neptune. "I want to know." She looked up at Metalia with what she hoped was an expression of servile defeat. If she was to have any chance of fighting this, she had to know what she was up against.

"Your power – the power of Sailor Moon and all the Sailor Soldiers – comes from love."

"I know that," Neptune gritted out.

"Ah, but what you don't know is that if one sailor soldier deliberately kills another in hate with her own sacred weapon, the power of the senshi will be broken. Sailor Moon will die. The silver crystal will shatter. All the rest of you will be rendered mortal and powerless and as easy to kill as the next little girl. None of you will be reincarnated ever again. Nothing will be able to bring your magic back.

"Not even Pluto remembers that ancient curse anymore, but I do. I will use it to break the power of the senshi and finally gain control of the galaxy. That night on the Hill when Uranus struck you, the process began. Her Sword was tainted with hate, and it's been growing stronger ever since. You can feel it now, coursing through your body. It is why the Sword responds to me. Uranus's hatred for you has made it mine."

Metalia drew closer, almost bending over Neptune as she delivered her final taunt of triumph.

"Your blood is the key to my victory. You will die here, killed by your lover's sword, and with the final expulsion of your breath will come the end of everything you fought to protect. The dark has won."

Neptune saw the Sword falling towards her in a lethal shower of golden sparks. It was exactly like the image she had seen in her Mirror. She cursed herself for her stupidity, for not trusting the truth of her Talisman. The Mirror hadn't been showing her the past at all. It had been warning her of the future.

Her blood. She would not allow her blood to cause the destruction of everything she loved. Her blood was still in the Sword. Metalia wasn't the only one to whom the Sword would respond.

"No!" As the Sword fell, Neptune raised her hands like a shield. Two inches away it stopped, its point hovering precariously near to her chest. Amongst the burning gold, a thin crimson thread glinted on the shaft. Neptune knew it was her blood. The bit of her Uranus had kept, all this time. She could feel the rest of her blood stirring, longing to be reunited with this lost piece of herself. Tiny red bubbles floated past her and embedded themselves in the Sword. The crimson thread grew brighter.

Metalia's eyes darkened in rage. "Stop fighting, Neptune. You cannot hope to win against this hate." She ruthlessly drove the Sword forward, until its tip pierced Neptune's flesh. The pain was unbearable. A scream was torn, unwilling, from Neptune's throat. Every muscle in her body was straining to try and hold back the Sword.

Still Metalia's voice went on, relentless poison whispering in Neptune's ear. "Why would you want to live, knowing this is what Uranus feels for you? Even after you gave yourself to her. Even after you admitted your love."

"You were w-watching us?" Neptune felt sick at the perversion.

Metalia gave her an evil smile. "That was why I sent the rain."

The arrogance of that smile unleashed a wave of fury in Neptune's mind as at last she understood. She and Uranus, they'd both been manipulated right from the beginning. Every thing they'd done to hurt themselves, hurt each other, had only been bringing them closer to the fulfilment of Metalia's sadistic plan to break the power of the soldiers forever.

But Neptune wouldn't allow it to happen. However far she had fallen, she would not abandon her duty. She would not abandon her Princess. Metalia was the one who had stolen her honour, and Neptune was going to take it back. Take it back for herself, as Uranus had told her she should.

She closed her eyes and drew in a breath, trying to prepare herself for what was to come. Any moment now she was going to lose control; she could feel it. She had to act before then. Act before Metalia could trigger the curse.

With a savage cry Neptune wrenched herself forward, deliberately impaling herself on the Sword. It was like a living flame entering her body, burning her from the inside out. Emotions overwhelmed her. Uranus's storms of turmoil and pain, her anger, her loneliness, her desire to destroy the one who had caused all this hurt. The hatred should have been killing her, but Neptune refused to acknowledge this was the truth of Uranus's heart. This was only what Metalia had done.

The night before Neptune had seen a different Uranus. She remembered the gentleness of her hands as she soothed Neptune's scar, the reverence of her lips when they kissed. Uranus had loved her then. Neptune had felt it in her touch.

A pulse of warm light kindled in Neptune's heart. She knew it was Uranus. She didn't know where she was, only that she was nearby, fighting with all of her strength to reach her. Fierce, noble and pure, Uranus's spirit shone, gifting Neptune with the precious conviction of trust. For a moment, there was the sense of sweet, hot breath on the back of her neck, and Uranus's voice whispered _I love you_.

The Sword shuddered in Neptune's chest as it was suddenly cleansed of hatred. Metalia stumbled, her concentration slipping in pure shock. Neptune took her chance. Teeth grating in agony, she grasped the hilt of the Sword and pulled it from her chest. It was bathed in the crimson light of her blood. She knew she was mortally wounded; that she had only minutes left to live. But it would be long enough to accomplish her goal.

With blood running freely from her breast, Neptune forced herself to her feet. She looked Metalia proudly in the eye. "This weapon belongs to a soldier of love. You don't know anything about that. You've perverted the Sword from its true purpose. But I will show you what it is."

Neptune cleaved through Metalia's defences to bury the Sword deep in the heart of her flames. In an effort to evade her, Metalia shed her human form, revealing her true self to be a demon of fire burning forever with hate. Still Neptune and the Sword did not falter. There could be no escape from the incorruptible power Neptune wielded in her hand. Through the medium of the Sword, she felt her own wet blood mingling with Metalia's fire, and heard Metalia scream.

Darkness started to flicker at the edges of Neptune's vision. When she moved, she felt the insides of her shoes sticky with blood. How much had she lost by now? How much more would it take to finish her Enemy? Stubbornly, she shored up her will and stared doggedly into Metalia's distorted face of flames. Her Mirror was ready in her left hand.

"Submarine Reflection!"

In the silver light, Neptune saw Metalia's weakness. Her burned and shrivelled heart, seeking always to destroy, purged of the ability to bear any emotion but hate.

Drenched in Neptune's blood, the Sword touched Metalia's heart. The blood of love. The blood of sacrifice. The blood of life. Metalia's golden flames turned red as Neptune's blood spread through her veins, overwhelming hatred with what it couldn't understand.

At last, Neptune pulled out the Sword and watched with detached compassion as Metalia thrashed before her. Doubled over, shoulders shaking, the demon wept as her inundated senses tried to comprehend what she perhaps had never known in the first place. "What have you done to me? What are these – these feelings?"

"This is humanity," said Neptune softly. "This is what we fight for."

Golden fire flickered in Metalia's fingertips. Her expression hardened into its old pattern of hate and her tears evaporated into smoke. "I won't let you infect me like this. My immortal flame will overcome—"

She spoke no more. Neptune sent a great wave of water crashing down upon her, obliterating what was left of her flames. When the water cleared, there was only a blackened stain on the polished white floor. Metalia was vanquished, for the third and final time.

Neptune staggered and fell as the very foundations of the Palace shook. She had no energy left to rise. Looking down at herself, all she saw was her blood. The taste of it was in the back of her throat, metallic and bitter. Above her, the force field flickered. It was the only thing holding back the sun. She hoped that she went before the roof collapsed. She didn't want to die in fire.

Strangely, she thought she heard Uranus's voice, calling her name with near-mad desperation. As if in a dream she saw the tall beautiful senshi of the sky appear before her, the fresh burns on her skin telling tale of battle. With the last of her strength, Neptune thrust the Sword towards her.

"Take it," she whispered, not really sure this wasn't an illusion. "Carry what's left of me with you, please."

Uranus shook her head. "Sorry Neptune. That's just not good enough." So saying, she swept up Neptune and the Talismans and ran faster than the wind through the falling palace. The flames of the sun roared at her heels. They made it to the portal just in time.

As they landed back in the temple, Uranus felt the collapse of Metalia's palace in her bones. A muffled explosion seemed to echo through the air, just on the edges of hearing. All around her the planet itself seemed to sigh in relief as it was freed from the grip of terror. Metalia's reign had ended.

Yet Uranus was crying as she gently lowered Neptune to the floor. She could hardly stand to look at the gaping wound in her chest; the wound that she herself had originally caused. Neptune's blood was all over both of them, thick and red. Somehow, though, she was still breathing. She was still just alive.

Would it work, if Uranus tried to heal her? Last time, she had only succeeded in causing Neptune pain, but that was before the Sword was cleansed. This time, her intent would be pure. Two handed, she raised the Sword above Neptune's chest, almost in an attitude of prayer. "Please Sword," she murmured. "Give back Neptune's blood. Give back everything I took from her."

Neptune was enveloped in gentle crimson light as energy began to flow from the Sword. Uranus didn't really know what she was doing, but the Sword seemed to guide her. She closed her eyes and felt Neptune's essence returning to where it should be, the infusion of power giving her body what it needed to heal. Even her skin knitted back together again as if the wound had never been.

The only word Uranus could think of to describe the experience was sacred. It was like what she had felt in Metalia's palace, the moment she and Neptune connected. Refusing to believe Uranus would kill, Neptune had submitted willingly to the Sword, bringing with her the memory of things Metalia would never understand. Uranus had felt her love, her trust, her determination to act with honour. Hate was no answer to such an offering. Trusting Neptune with her Sword, Uranus had loved her instead.

Shaking with exhaustion and elation, Uranus was jolted out of her trance as the healing finished. She checked Neptune with quick and anxious fingers. Her uniform was still bloodied and torn, but the skin beneath was whole. Fresh wound and old scar; both were gone. Her breaths were steady, her heartbeat sure. She wasn't going to die.

Uranus lowered her head wordlessly in thanks.

It was only then her own injuries began to assert themselves. She'd had to fight her way to Neptune and Metalia, through seemingly endless ranks of demons. Most of them had been fire monsters, and she'd acquired more than a few burns. Already her skin was starting to blister and peel.

Nevertheless, she leapt to her feet as she heard someone approaching, Space Sword in hand. She relaxed only slightly when she saw the intruder was the priestess who had sometimes helped the soldiers in the past.

The priestess approached cautiously, holding her hands out to show she meant no harm. "It's…Uranus isn't it? What's going on?"

"Metalia is dead," Uranus said flatly. "My partner Neptune killed her. We need to get home."

"But your injuries…"

"Just look after her." It was the last thing Uranus said before she collapsed onto the floor at Neptune's side, unconsciousness overtaking her.

Noticing the communicator flashing madly on Uranus's wrist, the priestess stooped down beside her. She pressed a button and spoke into it, hoping for the best. "Hello? My name is Maya, second priestess of the inner temple on Adara. There are two sailor soldiers here, alive but injured. One of them just said Metalia is dead. I think someone had better come and collect them. I'll look after them until you arrive. Please, travel quickly. I don't know what's going to happen."

Back on Earth, Setsuna started swearing again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_Adara, June 5, 2002_

When Michiru opened her eyes, it was raining rose petals. Down and down they poured, falling upon her face, her hair, the bed in which she was lying. They were already ankle deep on the floor. Bemused, Michiru blinked and watched the scarlet petals, breathing in the familiar scent that awoke so many beautiful and painful memories. Why now? Why were the roses weeping for her and Haruka, finally, after all this time?

She felt so weak it was difficult to move, much less think. What had happened? The fight with Metalia…The Sword…Uranus. Had Haruka rescued her? Was that why she was still alive? But she'd lost so much blood – how could she have survived that?

With some effort, Michiru managed to turn her head, to better assess her surroundings. She was in a snug, quiet room; the stormy sky outside the narrow window telling her she was most likely still in the temple on Adara. There was enough light that it must be daytime, but it was impossible to say what the hour might be.

These details, however, were only noted in the most cursory fashion. What arrested the majority of Michiru's attention was the fact that there was a second bed in the room, placed a short distance from her own. It was occupied by a bandaged and apparently sleeping Haruka.

Michiru watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, moved her eyes over Haruka's body like a vagrant visually devouring a feast. It hadn't been a dream, then, that Uranus had come for her, risked life and limb to save her. That had been real, just as Michiru's own battered but functional body lying in this bed was real. She hadn't died alone in an apocalypse of flame with the bitter taste of blood on her lips.

And…Metalia was dead.

Michiru hardly dared to voice the thought, even to herself, for fear of finding it somehow not to be true. The foe they'd been fighting for so long, the one who had cost all of them so much, could never hurt them again.

Elation soared like an eagle through Michiru's exhausted mind, stirring the falling rose petals into a whirlwind of joy. She couldn't quite believe this had happened, that she and Haruka were both here together, apparently safe, with their enemy vanquished and nothing more difficult to contemplate than recovery. But, heart skittering as she remembered the soft whisper of Uranus's voice against her ear, Michiru at least knew she was glad to be alive, which was more than she'd had the last time she'd woken up like this.

Her eyes flicked to the door as it opened to admit a generously proportioned and somewhat elderly woman. The woman acknowledged Michiru but didn't speak to her – it seemed she was here for the sole purpose of dealing with the ever-multiplying rose petals. She began trying to sweep them up into piles, apparently intending to carry them away in the cloth sacks she'd brought with her. The rose petals, however, had other ideas. They fell and sprawled and flew in every direction, the chaos only becoming worse as the woman wielded her broom more forcefully. There was an expression of such exasperation on her face that Michiru couldn't help but giggle.

"Michiru? Are you awake?"

Michiru's laughter hitched in her throat. Haruka's voice wavered like a scratched record, but for all that there was no mistaking its tone. She spoke Michiru's name as if bestowing a caress; soft and low with the intimacy of kisses in the dark at 3 am. Not even during the night they'd spent together had Michiru's sensitive ear caught such tenderness. Not for three years had she heard her name spoken in that way.

Still lying on her back, Michiru turned her head until Haruka came into her line of vision again. Haruka was shifting onto her side with a grunt of discomfort, facing herself towards Michiru's bed. The change in position revealed a lick of reddened skin that made its way up her throat and the uppermost side of her face. The arm that lay on top of the covers was bandaged from wrist to shoulder.

_How many demons did you fight to save me_, Michiru asked with her eyes, but the incredulous arch of Haruka's pale brows dismissed the question as irrelevant. Clear blue skies reigned in her eyes at last, not a hint of storms left. She flicked her gaze to the woman still struggling valiantly with her broom against the invading petals, looked back at Michiru with secret laughter lurking beneath half-lowered lids.

Throwing up her hands in defeat, the woman huffed in annoyance and stalked out of the room, taking broom and sacks with her. Victorious, the rose petals fell in delirious ecstasy, knowing the two trembling hearts hidden beneath rose-covered duvets reached for each other once more.

"Guess this means everything is okay again, huh?" Haruka drawled.

Michiru let out another giggle. "I guess it is."

In their respective beds, each lay just soaking in the sight of the other. Neither had the energy to rise. The beds weren't close enough that they could touch. But it didn't matter. Michiru could have lived for a week on the warmth in Haruka's eyes. What had happened in the white silence of the infirmary last time was no more than a nightmare's shadow fading in the sunlight.

"You were amazing," Haruka whispered, flexing her fingers as if stroking flesh that lay beyond her reach.

"Thank you…For trusting me."

"Of course I – I wasn't going to let you die like that. I couldn't. Not at the point of my Sword. How could I have lived on after that?"

Michiru placed her hand flat against her ribs and breathed; a deep inhale and exhale. For the first time in three years, it didn't hurt. She drew her fingers lightly over her chest, probing through the fine cotton fabric of her pyjamas. There was nothing but smooth skin. No scar, no gaping wound artificially closed by inadequate means. How could she have been awake and not noticed her burden was gone? Had she grown so used to its presence that she no longer recognised herself without it?

"Haruka…How?" Probably, Michiru's eyes were shining with unshed tears as she looked to her erstwhile lover for explanation. Certainly her vision blurred in the sudden bloom of emotion that spread through her newly healed chest, coloured in the brightness of delight and wonder and relief – relief at finally being free.

"It doesn't matter. Just as long as it's gone."

Daring to breathe another blissfully easy sigh, Michiru blinked and saw her own eyelashes bead with the jewelled evidence of her overflowing heart.

"Don't cry," said Haruka, slight husk suggesting an echo of Michiru's tears. "Please. Not when I'm all the way over here."

"I c-can't help it. I'm happy."

Haruka's next words were filled with a yearning that made Michiru shiver. "I wish I could touch you right now but…It's difficult to move."

"You will later…won't you?" Michiru's timbre emerged as wistful as minor notes plucked from the strings of her Stradivarius.

"I will," Haruka confirmed, features softened into a smile. "As long as you touch me too."

Michiru answered in the affirmative amidst a low ripple of shared laughter. Outside, rain rolled in from the ocean, bringing with it the scent of salt and freedom. Haruka's eyes glimmered like cool blue stars in the lowering gloom. As Michiru drifted off to sleep, the rose petals were still falling.

* * *

"That morning, when you and Haruka stopped answering us, we knew what was happening. We knew you'd gone off to fight Metalia." Hotaru paused in her narrative to sweep both Haruka and Michiru with a glare of disapproval. "We wanted to go after you, but the Princess wouldn't let us. She said it was a battle that Uranus and Neptune had to fight on their own.

Haruka and Michiru exchanged a private glance, both a little surprised at Usagi's insight.

"Yeah," said Haruka wryly, "she was right about that."

Hotaru shifted position on Michiru's bed, eyes thoughtful at Haruka's tone. The rose petals had finally been cleared from Haruka and Michiru's room, and after partaking of their tasteless convalescents' dinners, they'd been permitted a short visit from their fellow Outer Soldiers. As soon as she entered, Hotaru had immediately congratulated them on bringing down Metalia, and then thoroughly berated them for their recklessness at nearly getting killed. She'd next quickly moved on to asking indiscreet questions that made Setsuna chide her gently, and finally taken it upon herself to bring Haruka and Michiru up to speed on recent events.

"After that," she went on, "we got a call from Maya, saying that Metalia was dead, and that you two were injured. So all of us came to Adara. When Metalia fell, most of her demons went mad and extinguished themselves. A lot of the planet's inhabitants rose up and turned on what was left, knowing we were here if they needed back up. Things are still unstable, but better than they were. Mostly it seems people are glad to be free.

"Venus and Mars have already headed back to Earth to keep an eye on things in our solar system. The rest of us have been rotating on duty shifts, and hanging around here in between." Reaching the end of her story, Hotaru sighed. "It's been kind of exciting, but I hope we can go home soon." She regarded Haruka and Michiru meaningfully. "ALL of us."

"Hotaru," Setsuna said warningly.

"Oh come on," Hotaru gestured towards her two injured parents. "It's obvious _something_ has changed between them. They're all…dewy eyed and stuff. Haruka has burns to sixty percent of her body because she had to fight through legions and legions of demons, and Michiru killed Metalia using the Space Sword imbued with the power of her own _blood_, and they wouldn't have been able to do that if they hadn't worked out their damn issues!"

"We." Haruka plucked at her bedspread and coughed. "Haven't really discussed anything yet, firefly."

"It's fine," Setsuna interjected quickly, cutting off an annoyed Hotaru. "No one expects you to do anything right now except concentrate on recovery. I'm just glad you're both all right." Her mouth quirked in a half-anxious pucker that clearly said for a time she'd feared they wouldn't be.

Michiru briefly took her hand.

A short time later, the healers came to chase Hotaru and Setsuna away. Haruka and Michiru were ordered back to sleep, and the sounds of the temple slowly fell away as night deepened. Haruka's breathing became quiet and even as she slipped from consciousness. Michiru's thoughts kept her awake.

At last, with an irritated sigh, she threw back her bedcovers and sat up. The healers had warned Michiru against rising, but she decided to ignore their advice. On slightly treacherous legs she managed to totter the few steps to Haruka's bed, and lightly brushed her left shoulder (the uninjured one) to wake her.

"Michiru?" came the immediate, if fuzzy, response.

"Please Haruka, can I sleep with you?"

There was a silken rustle as Haruka raised the covers, inviting Michiru to join her. Slipping gratefully into this bed, so much more attractive than her own empty one, Michiru settled near to Haruka but stopped short of touching her.

"Are you okay?" Haruka whispered.

"I'm okay. I was just lonely."

"Come here." Reaching out, Haruka took Michiru's hand and circled her palm with a gentle thumb. "Better?"

"Isn't this hurting you?" Michiru worried. "Your burns…"

"You're not hurting me. This is just my hand."

A slow exploration; intimate and intense. No more than the touching of hands, yet in Haruka's careful consideration there was a deliberate endeavour to re-learn every crease and quirk of her partner's extremities. She ran her fingers over the well-known calluses on Michiru's corresponding opposites, courtesy of years of pressing down on the strings of her violin; paused to curiously trace a new scar at the base of her thumb.

"What's this?"

"Nothing. Just an accident that happened in Vienna."

"An accident?"

"A car accident. I…wasn't paying attention. I wasn't hurt badly, but my thumb was partially severed."

Haruka's hand tightened in hers. "Holy fuck! I've never heard about this?"

"Had to be kept secret. If anyone got the idea I couldn't play anymore, my career could have been jeopardised."

"How bad was it?" asked Haruka, a dry desert wind of fear in her tone.

"Pretty bad. Luckily my senshi healing took care of it, even though I wasn't active. If not for that…" Michiru shrugged, voice bleak. "I might never have played again."

"Michiru—" Haruka got no further before grief overtook her; all the hurt and anger she'd harboured since the night on the Hill at last purged in an outpouring of bitter and guilt-ridden tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being so stupid. For hurting you so much. I blamed everything on you, made you pay for it, yet all along I was the danger." The harshness of self-loathing crept into her final assessment. "I should be sending myself into exile as punishment."

Twining their fingers more tightly together, Michiru shook her head. "Haven't you learned anything, Haruka? That did absolutely no good last time. Besides, I'm not prepared to go without you for another three years. I want—" A sudden lump prevented Michiru from speaking further, but she didn't need to. _I want you to be my partnerloverfriend; the only one who can be_.

"I know," Haruka murmured, eyes flashing in the dark. "I want it too." Her hand trembled, then steadied. "Maybe when we get back to Earth, you could come and stay with me for a while."

"Leave Hotaru and Setsuna…?"

"Not forever. But to begin with, don't you think we'll need some space and time for ourselves?"

"It would have certain advantages," Michiru agreed, trying not to think of Haruka's bed, and what had happened there.

She felt Haruka's lips lightly brush her forehead. "I promise I won't freak out next time," she said, obviously guessing the trend of Michiru's thoughts.

Only just in time did Michiru remember the burns on Haruka's throat. She'd been about to nestle her head into the available space beneath the blonde's chin, and had to force herself to remain still instead. "I pushed you into it," she admitted wryly. "You weren't ready."

"I am now." In the dark, Haruka kissed Michiru; a searing promise of desire. "I want it to happen again," she admitted.

"Right now? Haruka, we're hardly in a state to manage it!"

Haruka laughed softly. "Not right now. You know what I mean."

Michiru smiled to herself and kissed the back of Haruka's hand. "I do," she said.

* * *

_Tokyo, October 12, 2002_

The taxi pulled up at the Outer Residence on a fresh October evening to disgorge two tanned women and a clutter of luggage. Hotaru, hair flying and eyes sparkling, was immediately upon them, chattering excitedly and tugging suitcases into the house, much to the bemusement of the taxi driver, who shrugged and drove away.

It had been a chaotic few months. Most of the soldiers had stayed on at Adara until the end of June, when Haruka and Michiru were finally well enough to make the journey back to Tokyo. Initially, the reunited couple had moved into Haruka's apartment as they'd discussed, but Haruka's burns were only partially healed and still bothering her, especially in the summer heat. Setsuna had wanted Haruka to spend some time in the infirmary beneath the Outer Residence, but Haruka had adamantly refused that. Considering the bad memories both of them shared of it, Michiru didn't blame her.

Instead, the two women had gotten out of Tokyo and spent about six weeks in a remote hot springs resort, followed by a month in Greece. Everyone understood the holiday had probably been for the best. After what Haruka and Michiru had been through, they both needed time to heal, on more than one level.

But when they'd decided they were ready to start thinking of home, the pair found themselves drawn quite naturally to the Outer Residence and not Haruka's apartment at all. Hotaru and Setsuna had been more than happy with the proposal they move back in, and so here they were, fresh off the plane from Greece.

Receiving news of their impending arrival, Hotaru had prepared a coming home feast in their honour, and had been on the phone to Setsuna all day, threatening to disown her if she worked late tonight, of all nights.

Luckily for Setsuna, she arrived home about fifteen minutes after Haruka and Michiru did.

Hotaru kept them all entertained at dinner with funny school escapades and her various thoughts about what to study at university next year. Setsuna revealed casually she'd been awarded a prestigious new science research fellowship. Haruka and Michiru handed round presents and holiday stories and assured their fellow Outers they were rested and fully healed and ready to return to active duty as soon as more monsters should appear.

With a groan, Hotaru begged them not to even talk about monsters, and in a more serious tone Setsuna agreed with her.

They adjourned to the living room afterwards, but within about an hour it was clear that Haruka and Michiru were tired from their journey and just about ready for bed. The announcement was met with studied indifference from Setsuna and a beam from Hotaru that wasn't quite concealed. She tried to excuse it by saying she was just happy they were all back together again for the first time in three years, but part of Haruka had a nightmarish vision of opening their bedroom door at 2 am and finding Hotaru crouched listening on the other side.

Then she dismissed the idea as ridiculous, since surely she and Michiru and Setsuna had raised Hotaru to know better than that.

Mounting the stairs behind Michiru was a little surreal. Haruka hadn't been into their old room since the day three years before when she'd moved out. She'd sworn to herself then that she'd never go back, that she'd never place herself in a position to be hurt like that again. Most of all, she'd told herself over and over again that she and Michiru were finished, and that she didn't need anyone else to make her complete.

For once, Haruka was glad she'd been wrong.

Their suitcases were already waiting for them in a corner of the room, harbingers of hopeful change. Haruka swept her eyes around the familiar surroundings but found them curiously bare without the clutter of personal belongings. She wasn't even sure where a lot of the objects were that had once graced this room – she imagined they were somewhere in her apartment, stuffed into a box too full of pain to be opened.

But perhaps it was finally time.

Michiru was already busy unpacking her suitcase and putting things away in drawers. Her movements were jerky and overly fussy; a clear sign she was nervous. Enveloping her in hug from behind, Haruka nudged her lips close to Michiru's ear.

"I'm glad we're home," she said, letting Michiru hear how much she meant it.

Her lover's hair was shoulder length once more, the curling tips tickling her chin. It had given Haruka a pang of regret when Michiru announced her intention to cut her hair short again, but without needing to be told she knew Michiru disliked the compliments her long hair tended to attract, since she couldn't help but associate them with the woman she'd been in Vienna.

"It never." Michiru paused, tense in Haruka's arms. "It never felt right being here without you. I didn't like it."

Haruka caught sight of the bed, reflected in the vanity's mirror. Their bed. In that time apart, they'd both lain with other people in other beds, but never here. This was theirs alone.

"We should make this room ours again," she ventured. "Fill up the bookcase. Get out the trophies. I'll buy you a whole new make-up collection if you want it."

Regret tinging her voice, Michiru pointed out, "We can't go back, Haruka. This room does need to become ours again, but as we are now, not as we were. And that is the part that scares me a little, because I don't think we've even begun to figure ourselves out yet."

"But we've already done everything there is to do." Haruka smoothed her hand down Michiru's thigh in a sensual touch that spoke of warm Mediterranean nights, and felt her lover shiver.

"I know. I'm not talking about that. Everything until now has been happening in neutral territory I guess. Kind of like…a holiday, or a dream. But this is where we broke. This is where the mending is really going to have to start."

With a gentle tug on Michiru's locks, Haruka acceded, "Yes, you're right. Come and have a bath with me."

"Haruka! Haven't you been listening?"

Haruka paused in the act of picking up one of the fresh towels that had thoughtfully been placed on the end of the bed. "We can mend in the bath as well as anywhere, can't we? I'm too tall for those aeroplane seats. I need to soak the kinks out of my back, and I'd prefer to have company."

The tension went out of Michiru's shoulders, and she gifted Haruka with a half smile. "All right," she agreed.

* * *

In the midst of candles and fragrant steam, Haruka floated in the hot perfumed bath water and sighed contentedly. She stretched her spine, rolled her shoulders, wriggled her toes. Flying was definitely not her favourite method of transport. Not in planes, anyway.

She felt Michiru's fingers smooth themselves down the length of her arms. "Better?" she asked.

"Yes, much."

Michiru settled her hands around Haruka's waist, pulling her closer until Haruka could feel Michiru's breasts pressing into her back. In all the time they'd been apart, Haruka hadn't allowed anyone else to hold her or touch her like this. She'd never wanted any hands but these on her body, giving her comfort, giving her love. She only hoped that in the time ahead she could prove herself worthy of the forgiveness Michiru had so freely given.

"So," said Michiru softly, chin propped on Haruka's shoulder. "That was our first serious disagreement as a couple."

Covering one of Michiru's hands with her own, Haruka added, "We nearly destroyed each other."

"We nearly destroyed the world."

Haruka's breath gusted out in a shuddery sigh of horror. "I know."

"The thing is, we'll disagree about something else one day."

"Of course we will. It's unrealistic to expect otherwise. But next time…we'll bend instead of breaking. No matter what it is. Nothing is more important than this." Haruka held up their interlaced hands, slick with water and bath oil. "Without this, all the rest falls apart. It's like the foundation…or something."

Michiru gave a low, melodic laugh. "And you were doing so well there with the poetics," she teased.

"I think that twelve hour flight killed my brain."

"You're tired aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am. Sorry."

"It's not something to apologise for."

Haruka waved her free hand vaguely. "Well, you know. I thought you'd want to re-christen the bed and all that."

There was a thoughtful pause. "Will you hold me tonight?" Michiru asked.

"Of course. I hold you every night."

"Then it's fine."

After letting out the cooling bath water, the two of them made the short trip back to their bedroom, muffled in towels and fluffy robes. They could hear the TV blaring downstairs, and the odd murmur as Hotaru and Setsuna carried on some kind of conversation that seemed to mostly consist of arguing about who the cutest contestant was on some game show.

It couldn't be a more ordinary evening.

It couldn't be more wonderful.

The bedspread, perhaps, was new. At any rate, it wasn't one Haruka recognised from past years. White, with some botanically uncertain red flowers splashed across the lower half. When she turned the bed down, she found the same flowers decorating the pillows. Haruka wondered if Michiru had chosen it. It didn't seem like the sort of thing she would like, but then, maybe her tastes had changed.

The sheets were white as well. They were finely woven, cool and soft against Haruka's skin as she surrendered herself to the familiar and long denied comfort of her bed, but she felt the phenomenon of white, sanitised sheets was something she had encountered too much of these last few months.

Then she remembered most of the sheets at her apartment were also white, and grimaced. There was going to have to be a serious homewares shopping trip somewhere in the near future.

With her head cradled in the opposing pillow, Michiru regarded Haruka curiously. "You don't look happy."

"I was thinking we should go on a shopping trip. I'm tired of white sheets. Too much like hospitals."

"We could go wall-to-wall pink."

"Not even."

"Not even if I really wanted it?"

With a flick of her wrist, Haruka turned off the lamp beside her, plunging them into darkness. "Imagine the pink now," she advised. "That's as close as you're getting."

"Cruel," Michiru accused. "And you're not even making good on your promise."

"You're all the way over on the other side of the bed. You need to come closer."

There was a rustle of bedding as Michiru turned onto her other side. "Come over to my side. I'm comfortable here."

Grumbling for the sake of appearances, Haruka abandoned her half of the bed to join Michiru, fitting herself to her lover's curves so that they rested like two spoons together. Her fingers quested beneath Michiru's pyjama top to stroke her bare stomach; a habit she'd picked up that was part reassurance and part guilt. Even if she already knew that Michiru had forgiven her for what she'd done, it was going to take longer for Haruka to forgive herself.

She started slightly as something soft and fragrant landed of her temple. Then she huffed sleepily into the tumble of aqua-marine hair before her.

"Michiru…"

"I know. The rose petals are falling again."

* * *

A week later, Haruka and Michiru resumed their training with fully functional Talismans. Technically, they still weren't back on active duty, but that distinction hardly mattered since there'd been not a single attack on Earth since Metalia's fall.

Probably, Haruka teased her lover, word of Michiru's victory had spread throughout the galaxy and any monsters still lurking were too afraid to face the destroyer of demons, which was what the populace of Adara had taken to calling her. They were in a movie theatre at the time, and Michiru threw a piece of popcorn at Haruka to show her just what she thought of that theory.

As of old, the Inner senshi took to giggling like school girls whenever Haruka and Michiru were around, and with a soft glow of happiness in her eyes Usagi accepted quite naturally the decline of Haruka's flirting. Mamoru said nothing but was probably relieved.

Eventually, however, on a squally November morning, the winds warned Haruka of disturbance, and Michiru's Mirror began to pulse urgently. The two soldiers exchanged a glance.

"Hana Niwa Shopping Mall," they said together, and went.

"…Er," said Haruka, when they reached their destination.

"Is that—?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

"That monster," Michiru intoned, looking at the giant, squishy body of the thing before them, currently terrorising the thin trickle of morning shoppers, "Is made out of _pudding_."

They both ducked hastily as the monster caught sight of them, roared and threw what looked like a steaming Christmas pudding over their heads, complete with golden custard.

Haruka grinned at Michiru wolfishly, eyes lit with delight at the challenge before them; the timeless, shimmering beauty of Uranus superimposed over the face she knew and loved so well.

"Ready, Neptune?"

"I'm ready."

"Let's go."

With roses weeping, the two soldiers plunged into battle, Talismans drawn, and finished the fight side by side.

* * *

A/N: finally finished! At some point, there might be an epilogue added as well, but I'm pretty busy at the moment, so it could be a while before I get round to it. Thanks everyone for sticking with this - I know it's been a ridiculously long time. But one of the most enjoyable stories I've ever written.


	13. Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

Okay, here we are right at the very end.

Just to let you all know, I have made a very few minor corrections throughout the rest of the story as well. I wrote this over two years, so there were a few small inconsistences that I wanted to fix up, and I even found a few typos that had previously made it past my eagle eye.

To the reviewer (bibliotaku) who suggested the epilogue be set in Greece - you were spot on, that is exactly what I planned the epilogue to be ;)

Thanks again to all for following and supporting - I've had such a fantastic time!

* * *

**E****pilogue**

"I used to dream about this, you know," Michiru whispered. "Living in a house with you by the sea." She glanced at Haruka's moon-silvered profile, then swivelled her gaze up to the cliffs above. She could just see the outline of their ramshackle cottage, blending into the vastness of the empty night sky.

Besides the cottage, there was nothing else to be seen. No other dwellings interrupted the skyline. No town lights glittered in the distance. There weren't even proper roads around here. Nothing but cliffs and goats and empty golden beaches that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Michiru was definitely glad they had come to Greece.

Haruka's straight, uncompromising nose softened in a rueful wrinkle. "I'm sorry. I ran from you so much." Gently pulling Michiru closer, she brushed their lips together with a smile warming her voice. "But I'm glad you chased me. You're the only person I've ever met who can out-run the wind."

Tickling wavelets rippled at Michiru's ankles, and the ocean whispered of hidden seaweed grottoes and shipwrecked treasure. The wind was speaking to Haruka; something about the wild joys of flying unrestrained far out to sea and teasing the waves into great swells that rolled and crashed with mad and glorious power.

"So," Haruka said, a slight tremble in her voice, "Shall we walk for a bit?"

"To the cove on the other side of the rocks," Michiru agreed. She hoisted the light backpack onto her shoulder containing towels and a few other necessities.

They walked hand in hand through a world of silver sand and glittering diamond sea. It almost could have been the long lost Kingdom of the Moon, resurrected this one night for the soldiers who still carried the memory of its beauty in their hearts.

The cove had a wide crescent of sand encircled by high boulders on either side. There was very little surf along this stretch of coastline, and the sea lapped at the shore of this secret beach with the gentle kiss of a lover. After scrambling over the rocks and selecting a spot on the sand above the high tide mark, Haruka and Michiru unpacked the towels and spread out the thick, plaid rug with an almost ritual solemnity.

"Haruka…" Michiru began, not really sure what she intended to say.

During the last few months, there had been no shortage of physical intimacy between them. Indeed, it was almost inevitable given the fact of Haruka's lingering injuries and Michiru's determination to care for her. Haruka had been a cooperative patient in every way, yet Michiru knew that she'd chafed at her weakened state, and on more than one occasion had wondered wryly of what Michiru must think to be catapulted straight into the role of nursemaid after everything that happened.

Washing sheets and changing bandages was not exactly the height of romanticism after all, and they'd both agreed that sex was off the agenda until Haruka's burns faded. Which, in some ways, Michiru reflected, was a bad thing, since it created an atmosphere of waiting; an awareness of this thing that must happen between them at some future and unknown date.

But really, Michiru wanted to say, it didn't matter because sex was one expression of love but not the whole, and to treat its current existence or lack thereof as somehow symptomatic of the status of their whole relationship made her distinctly uneasy.

She smoothed the edge of the rug with her hand.

"That night at your apartment…What I wanted was to be close to you. To show you what I still felt; to know you felt it for me. But I know now, Haruka. There's no need for this ceremony. It doesn't need to happen _now_. There doesn't have to be a _date_ for it."

Lying stretched out on the rug, Haruka smiled up at her. "I know that love. That's not why I suggested this." Her gaze wandered towards the ocean. "I just don't like this tension between us. My burns are gone; you don't have to look after me anymore. And there's no point dancing around each other, waiting to see who will make the first move. I wanted to cut through all that." She sat up, fingers reaching to rest over Michiru's. "Let's go swimming. Whatever happens after that…is fine."

Michiru allowed herself to be tugged to her feet, to be drawn into the warm, buoyant water. She swam with a kind of dreamy contentment, watching the moon's quivering, broken reflection and half listening to the eternal song of the sea.

She touched Haruka, or Haruka touched her, and any lingering discomfiture was gone, washed away in the gentle ripple of the outgoing tide. The two women didn't speak much. They didn't have to. Their hands and their bodies knew a deeper language; one of breath and blood and slowly building desire.

In time, both the towels and the rug were needed; the first to dry the streaming silver water, the latter for a bed beneath the star-studded sky. Amidst sweet and gentle kisses Michiru worried at the edge of Haruka's bathing suit, slipped her hand beneath the damp fabric to find the warm swell of flesh within.

Haruka responded with a nip and a gasp against Michiru's lips. Her fingers flexed on Michiru's thigh, travelled just far enough to rest within maddening proximity of where Michiru would have really preferred them to be.

With a frustrated mewl Michiru tried to shift closer, but Haruka moved her hand away with a low chuckle. Her lips ghosted over Michiru in the torment of half-touches; she murmured her determination that this would go slower than the last time, that she would linger over every breath and word and tremble of her lover's skin.

"Last time," Michiru explained between kisses, "I couldn't keep my hands off you."

"Last time…" Michiru felt the clench of Haruka's abdomen beneath a questing hand. "Was something I hadn't experienced with anyone since you went away. I just wish that afterwards things had gone differently. That I hadn't just…watched you sleep, too afraid to let myself touch you."

There was sadness in Haruka's tone, and unspoken apology for the way events had unfolded that night in her apartment.

Michiru hid her response against Haruka's shoulder, happiness fluttering in a way not entirely appropriate as she heard of her lover's repentance. "Doesn't matter," she insisted, her voice muffled against Haruka's skin. "There have been many nights since that one where we haven't been divided."

"But none like this," Haruka said.

The sea whispered softly in Michiru's ears. "No," she agreed, features curving into a smile. "None like this."

She pulled Haruka down with her, welcomed the removal of her bikini top and the kisses that followed. Starlight rimmed the pale gold of Haruka's hair; in her eyes lurked a tenderness that took Michiru's breath away.

Beneath her, she felt the sand squeak as it moulded to the curves of her body. The warmth of the breeze was like gentle fingers caressing her breasts, and when Haruka sat up to look down at her, Michiru deliberately removed her own pants and opened her thighs just enough to provoke.

Haruka's breath hitched. Not taking her eyes from Michiru's, she removed her one piece bathing suit more slowly than necessary, watching Michiru watch her. Her figure was fuller than anyone would have guessed from the clothes Haruka usually wore, but what held Michiru's attention was her unblemished skin.

Twice now Haruka had been burned, twice she'd mended slowly month by month over nights of pain and tedious days of boredom and snatches of sleep. But only the most recent time, the time that wasn't as bad as the first, had she allowed Michiru to help her through it.

What it had been like to feel Metalia's fire Haruka still didn't speak of, nor the horrific injuries of which she surely would have died if not for the Silver Crystal.

How painful must it be, Michiru wondered, to have to regenerate bone.

Sweet and warm Haruka covered her, wanting to know the meaning of that pensive gaze, but Michiru only smiled up at her and drew her into a searing kiss sealed with an insistent sting of teeth.

When they parted, swollen-lipped and heavy-eyed, Haruka ducked her head to run her mouth down Michiru's chest. Clever fingers shifted to tease the crease of her thigh, dancing lightly over her skin in a tattoo of delightful torment.

Michiru threw back her head and moaned; propped her elbows beneath her to better survey the progress of her wicked lover. "Haruka!" she admonished, though she hardly knew whether she was asking for this to stop or continue.

A smile like the curl of a sea breaker tugged at Haruka's lips. Salty gusts ruffled Michiru's hair and her heart pounded wildly. She was going to go mad soon if Haruka didn't touch her.

As if in response both of Haruka's hands were against her, so suddenly Michiru lost her purchase and collapsed onto her back with the stars reeling above her. The wind took her cry, carrying it far out over the moonlit surface of the sea to fly with the night-birds that hunted the quicksilver fish.

Wet breath tickled her, and the lightest flicker of tongue. Michiru clenched her teeth against another moan, and words decidedly less polite. Another glance confirmed Haruka was still watching her, eyes half closed in lazy satisfaction as she licked a long, deliberate stroke.

With needful fire flaring in her belly, Michiru twisted a fist into the blanket beneath her and shuddered. "Tease!"

Laughter rippled up from Haruka's chest. At last she settled to her task; fingers exploring, tongue circling, caressing, coaxing Michiru to a blinding crescendo of pleasure. In the passion of her touch she met Michiru's desire with her own, reforging with tender care those links of trust and intimacy and love that had so nearly been destroyed.

Afterwards, she nuzzled Michiru sweetly and Michiru held her close, heart almost bursting with the intensity of feeling overwhelming her, with the physical sensation of having Haruka here, in her arms, skin and scent and body melting into her own.

"I love you, you know that?" Haruka whispered, eyes meeting Michiru's own in a gaze that held nothing back.

"I know," Michiru answered with a catch in her voice. "I love you too." They didn't elaborate further, for those words alone were enough when said in the context of this night, with the memories of the last few months still fresh between them, with knowing they had not succumbed at last to Metalia's hate.

An edge of mischief crept into Michiru's smile, a promise of recompense for the unbearable teasing to which Haruka had subjected her. Never taking her eyes from her lover's, she trailed her hand leisurely down Haruka's body, not failing to note the speeding of her breaths, the wildness brewing in her eyes, the tremours of need as Michiru touched her.

Pleading, Haruka nudged forward into her hand, wrapped her leg round Michiru's waist for purchase. Together they fell into a rhythm as natural as the ebb and flow of the tide, Haruka clinging to her as shudders wracked her body and she sobbed Michiru's name in the rapture of her release.

They rested, panting, limbs still tangled; in a slow and almost imperceptible progression of stealthy kisses Michiru continued to make love to her, couldn't resist tasting Haruka until she came again.

The night grew old and the moon went down. Still they touched and whispered of what had been and what was to come and slept at last, lightly, with beach towels pressed into service as makeshift covers.

Sticky and sandy but strangely content, Michiru awoke eventually to find Haruka still glued to her side, face peaceful in sleep, her short hair stiffened with salt and standing out at outrageous angles.

She smiled indulgently and disentangled herself to sit up and contemplate the ocean before her. Everything was hushed in tones of blue and grey, but watercolour stains of mauve and pink and gold were leaking into the sky where dawn was breaking on the cusp of the glowing horizon.

Soon, she thought, the world would be filled with colour, and the sun would shine blazingly hot in a clear blue sky and on the cliffs above them the goats would start to bleat and birds would usher in the new day with throbbing songs of joy. And Michiru could think of nothing better than that Haruka would be there to share it all with her.


End file.
